tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38741374477402190522015-03-31T12:05:19.156+02:00A View of MadridA personal view of life in Madrid, with ocasional excursions to other parts of Spain.
Please feel free to commentA View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-48062063418462115762012-04-30T15:45:00.000+02:002012-05-03T09:49:40.073+02:00Peaceful Protests, Past and Present<br /><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>By Richard Morley</i></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Be70xKXrWfE/T56UnreoQrI/AAAAAAAACDo/FhSH7xy0Ntg/s1600/Protest+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Be70xKXrWfE/T56UnreoQrI/AAAAAAAACDo/FhSH7xy0Ntg/s400/Protest+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A couple of Saturdays ago I was on a bus bringing me into the centre of Madrid. I was meeting a friend and we had agreed to meet at eight in La Latina. My bus should have taken me close to the Puerta del Sol, which would have left me with a short walk across the Plaza Mayor and down the Calle de Toledo. Glancing at my watch I could see I would get there on time. Just! Saturday evening traffic flow meant the bus was making slow progress, but as the number 53 turned off Goya on to Recoletos with twenty minutes to go, I knew I would make it. It was just a matter of a right at Cibeles, the penultimate stop, and a swift final zoom up to Sol. But I was cutting it fine.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So I was not happy when the bus pulled into the stop at Cibeles and the driver announced he could go no further and we all had to alight. The last leg to the terminus might take the bus a couple of minutes, but it was a ten minute walk. Like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland I was going to be late. And yes! It was a very important date.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There was worse to come. My wished speedy walk from Cibeles to Sol was impeded by huge crowds of people waving banners and flags, and shouting slogans of every political persuasion. The Calle de Alcala’s final descent ( actually it’s up hill, but it’s the end of the road,) into the city centre carried a procession of extremely vocal protesters voicing their collective opinions about the government’s latest reforms. There were ambling families with young children in pushchairs, there were leaders with megaphones broadcasting repetitive slogans. A group of singers with guitars seated on the bed of a pick-up led the crowd around them in song. A group of communists waved a sea of red flags bearing the hammer and sickle and just behind them a very militaristic looking band of young, shaven headed young men of the right wing Frente Naciónal in perfectly spaced disciplined formation holding their flags high. This last group marched with precision and did not seem as affable as the rest.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I weaved though this crowd of protesters and on-lookers taking photographs I was struck by the complete cross-section of society that were represented. The newly elected government’s package of reforms they claim are needed to combat the serious economical crisis that Spain is experiencing have met with severe criticism from the general population. Nearly everyone is affected in some way by these harsh measures. Taxes have been raised, salaries of government workers reduced which knocks on to a de facto pay freeze in the private sector. Budgets have been cut and we are all feeling the pinch. The ordinary people feel a need to make their displeasure of the government’s action known.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This was not the first demonstration, but the latest of many. At the end of March the unions called for a General Strike to protest a vote in congress due to take place the following day that would bring in strict measures. In Madrid, a city that always supports the party of the current government, the strike had minimal effect. In Barcelona there was violence on the streets. I visited several offices on that day and only one person had followed her conscience and had not reported for work, but there was disruption on public transport and picket lines forcing city centre shops to pull down their shutters. And we must not forget that last year that Sol was invaded by a protest camp that lasted several weeks.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">And it was not the last: A few days ago, in protest at increases in the cost of public transport in the city, protesters brought much of the Metro system to a standstill one morning by a coordinated activating of the emergency alarms on thirteen trains just before nine o’clock. The protesters risked heavy fines and imprisonment, but so runs the feelings of injustice and impotence of the common man in the face of this New Spain. </span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I write “New Spain” because things have changed very much very quickly. When I first arrived here there was a great feeling of optimism and pride. Now the country has a huge unemployment problem, regional governments don’t have sufficient income from taxation to pay their bills and the country is suffering from the general malaise of the weak euro. Immigrants who came here for a better life are returning home and Spaniards are following them to find work. The Sol protesters are threatening to commemorate their demonstration a year later.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">But “NEW Spain”? </span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When, in 1759, Carlos III became king of Spain, after having been king of Naples since 1735, he found a country much in need of reform. He was a believer in what was known as “Enlightened Absolutism”, in which, while a monarch ruled with absolute authority, it was with the intent of improving the lives of their subjects. This was a movement sweeping through Europe at the time and was followed, to varying degrees by several of the ruling families. Voltaire, and other philosophers, saw this as the “only way forward”. What it actually meant was that “the king knows best” and allowed little room for public discussion.</span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oQNjojOTYJU/T56WDB-sKqI/AAAAAAAACEI/KaUcZ81k97k/s1600/Carlos+III.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oQNjojOTYJU/T56WDB-sKqI/AAAAAAAACEI/KaUcZ81k97k/s320/Carlos+III.JPG" width="311" /></a></div><div class="Normal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: blue;"><i><b>&nbsp;Carlos III on horseback in the Plaza del Sol.</b></i></span></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">To this end Carlos did indeed seek to improve the lives of his subjects. “Enlightened Absolutism” claims to be tolerant of religion and allow free speech, but only to an extent. However, he improved sanitary conditions in Madrid, firstly by prohibiting the citizens from throwing their waste, human or otherwise, out on to the street, reducing taxes of foodstuffs, introducing street lighting and began a series of road building projects to connect Madrid to other cities. There were those in Madrid who opposed his restrictions, but he claimed they “were like children who cried when they had their faces washed”. Through this he gained the unofficial title of “The best Mayor of Madrid”. </span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Of course, he had help. During his reign as king of Naples he had in his service a man called Leopold de Gregorio. He had been employed as a supplier to the Neapolitan army and had so impressed the king that in 1755 Carlos had ennobled him with the title of the Marqués de Esquilache, named for the Italian town of Squillace and with the E added to make it pronounceable by the Spanish, and was made chief inspector of customs. An important, and remunerative, position. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xRi_dDBRhZw/T56U27S_0II/AAAAAAAACDw/-mmsRWMAKkY/s1600/Esquilache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xRi_dDBRhZw/T56U27S_0II/AAAAAAAACDw/-mmsRWMAKkY/s320/Esquilache.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div class="Normal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;">&nbsp;Leopold de Gregorio, Marqués of Esquilache.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When Carlos became the king of Spain he brought Gregorio with him and put him in charge of the Hacienda, head of taxation, and in 1763, secretary of war. Spain needed the money. Following the “Family Pact” of the different branches of the Bourbon households Spain and France were obsessed by the idea of reducing the power of Great Britain. The Seven Years War by which France attempted this (and spectacularly failed) was going on and Spain joined in in 1762. Carlos thought Britain’s success would upset the European balance of power. However, he wasn’t very successful. Spain were thrown back when they tried to invade Portugal and lost the major trading ports of Havana and Manila. The 1763 Treaty of Paris also saw Spain give Florida to Britain for the return of the two ports. Which meant that the end of the war that sucked up all the funds coincided with Esquilache’s best money-making scheme ever. He inaugurated the La Primitiva, the mainstay of the Spanish lottery, which still, two hundred and fifty years later, is a source of income for the government.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Losing power abroad made Carlos return to reforms of Spain. Food prices were on the increase, taxation was high and, despite the creation of porcelain and glass factories, the building of canals, roads and drainage works, much of which was seen as creating work for works sake (much of this seems familiar in modern day Spain!) the people were not happy. The task of making these changes was put in the hands of Esquilache.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As king of Naples, Carlos had had problems with the Roman Catholic church. While being a religious man, he thought the church had no role in the the running of state affairs. He more or less reduced the still existing Inquisition to impotency and eventually had the Jesuits forcibly expelled in 1767.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">But being a man who loved hunting and more peaceful pursuits like the arts (he built the Prado) and nature (he inaugurated the botanical garden) and preferring to live in his palace in Aranjuez, he delegated the job to Esquilache, who took to his role with more enthusiasm than the Spanish whom he was trying to reform.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As always, the climax came from something quite minor. As well as “Cleaning and Paving the streets” and creating “Boulevards” to modernise Madrid, as he claimed, Esquilache also tried to change the way the citizens dressed. Influenced by France, where short capes and three-corned hats were the common place, Esquilache decreed that Madrileños should follow this fashion as the longer over-capes that the Spanish habitually wore could easily conceal a weapon, such as a long sword, and the wide brimmed hats concealed faces, and was seen as a security measure to stop criminals. </span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nYyktx6KNjA/T56U-IpW4nI/AAAAAAAACD4/CmlZJOZEjw0/s1600/Differing+Dress.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nYyktx6KNjA/T56U-IpW4nI/AAAAAAAACD4/CmlZJOZEjw0/s320/Differing+Dress.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="Normal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>&nbsp;<i><span style="color: blue;">On the left is the new short cape and three/cornered hat. The man on the right in the old style is being reproved by his fellow citizens.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">At first this dress code only applied to members of the royal court who were legally obliged to adopt the fashion. The common people had other things to worry about. Esquilache’s liberalisation of the trade in grain has resulted in increases in the price of bread and cured meat which had doubled, and oil and coal. Also, salaries had been reduced. (Again, we are seeing this today.) But on March the 10</span><sup><span style="font-family: Arial;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> 1766 notices were pasted up around Madrid that prohibited the wearing of the banned garments. The reaction was immediate with many of the placards being ripped down. Militia and the police trying to enforce the law were attacked by the people.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Two weeks later, the 23</span><sup><span style="font-family: Arial;">rd</span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial;">, which happened to be Palm Sunday, two men wearing the long capes were crossing the plaza of Antón Martín and were challenged by an official. One of the men reached under his cloak and drew his sword, threatening the official. Esquilache, Italian by birth, was seen as a foreigner and because of perceived interference by the Roman Catholic church in the affairs of Spain, there was a deal of animosity towards anything Italian. The official was told that if he thought an Italian could tell a Spaniard how to dress he had another thought coming! The official fled.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The scene was witnessed by many others who then processed along the Calle de Atocha shouting “Long live the king. Long live Spain. Death to Esquilache.” By the time they had reached the Plaza del Ángel there were two thousand of them - shouting for the head of the Italian upstart - and a document was written calling for the king to fire him.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The crowd continued to the Plaza Mayor, where it was witnessed by Luis Maria de Soledad Fernández de Cordoba y Gonzaga, better known as the 13</span><sup><span style="font-family: Arial;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Duke of Medinaceli, who had just left the king at the palace. He was surrounded by the crowd and forced to return to the palace and take their petitions to the king.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The situation worsened. The rioters destroyed 5000 lamposts that that Esquilache had installed around the city. One of Esquilache’s servants was knifed and his portrait was burnt. And so began the three days that are known as the “Esquilache Riots”. The famous painter, Goya, was a witness and later painted “El Motín de Esquilache”.</span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zRwuQXOH93M/T56VjfNmzzI/AAAAAAAACEA/YWY47i02kGY/s1600/Esquilache_riots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zRwuQXOH93M/T56VjfNmzzI/AAAAAAAACEA/YWY47i02kGY/s400/Esquilache_riots.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On the next day troops defending the king’s residence shot and killed a woman. A priest took the rioters’ demands to the king. They stated that Esquilache and his family should leave Spain, that there should only be Spaniards in the government and that the wearing of the long cape and wide hat be allowed. The priest declared that if the demands were not met the palace would be reduced to rubble in two hours.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Carlos appeared to agree with these demands, then fled the palace with his own family and that of Esquilache and sought refuge in Aranjuez. But he did nothing to solve the problem. The crowd, now thirty thousand strong, besieged the residence of Madrid’s bishop, who they kept locked up while an emissary was sent to Aranjuez.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Without returning to Madrid, the king promised to accept the demands. He dismissed Esquilache, who he made ambassador to Venice. Years later he would claim that he deserved a statue for all that he had done for the city. Maybe, but he shouldn’t have told people what to wear.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">His job was taken by the Duke of Aranda, who was given the title of president of the Council of Castile. Spanish and of quieter temperament than Esquilache, he managed to pacify the rioters. One of the things he achieved was to get together with citizens’ representatives and convince them that the long cape and wide brimmed hat was the dress of the much hated </span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">verdugo</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;">, or hangman, the official executioner, and that no respectable person should wear it. Soon, the populace adopted the modern dress.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">And though him, Carlos III continued his reforms until his death in 1788.</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I doubt any modern day politician would attempt to legislate on dress, although any who outlawed teenagers from wearing their jeans so low to reveal their backside would get my support! There were moves in Britain to ban hooded tops from public spaces and recently the case of Trayvon Martin shot by George Zimmerman in the US because of the boy’s “suspicious behaviour” in wearing a hooded top has brought to the fore the perceived concealment of clothes and of course, there’s the on-going discussion about the concealing <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com.es/2010/06/behind-veil-of-prejudice.html">abayas of Moslem women</a>.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">In living memory there was a time in Spain when any form of public dissent was not allowed. I have lived in countries where this is still the case. The protesters’ marches in Madrid or elsewhere will probably continue to disrupt the streets. In fact that were at it again yesterday.</span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqqEC7Nz7uY/T56UZsfpuiI/AAAAAAAACDg/1eq1rI01piA/s1600/Protest+March.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqqEC7Nz7uY/T56UZsfpuiI/AAAAAAAACDg/1eq1rI01piA/s400/Protest+March.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="Normal"><br /></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am no advocate of mob rule, but peaceful demonstration should act as a conscience for democratically elected governments. It is noteworthy that Madrileños in 1766 did not call for the head of Esquilache, just his removal from office. In this they succeeded. No government should ever disregard the views of the people it serves. It took a lot of noise and a few lamp posts damaged, but eventually Carlos III did listen to his people. In 1952 George Santayana, a Spanish philosopher, said, ” Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it”. Perhaps our modern day politicians should go back to school.</span></div><div class="Normal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The photographs of the present day demonstrations in Madrid are taken from the pages of 20 Minutos and credit should go to the publishers.</span></span>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-17299389865425901832012-02-18T13:55:00.000+01:002012-02-18T13:56:07.223+01:00Madrid - No solution for pollution?<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>By Richard Morley.</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zlmj73INARM/Tz-eFjd45sI/AAAAAAAACCk/s5OFikOEhTk/s1600/Madrid_City+Pollution+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zlmj73INARM/Tz-eFjd45sI/AAAAAAAACCk/s5OFikOEhTk/s640/Madrid_City+Pollution+(5).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let’s begin with something quite disgusting. During my first winter in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>I caught a cold. That’s not unusual, it’s normal to catch colds in winter and I had had them before. What was new to me was that this was the first time I had to visit a pharmacy and declare myself “constipado”, and that when I blew my nose, (this is the disgusting part) what came down was black. Soot black.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had been in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> for just a short time and this was the first time in my life I had lived in a city and I knew that the stuff my nose was ejecting was Madrid Pollution. At least it showed that my natural filters were working. Now, after a lifetime of smoking cigarettes this surprised me. How much stuff, far more than I suck in from my cancer sticks, was I breathing in from the air of the city?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speaking with a friend’s wife I remarked that she would probably have no need for a tumble drier to dry her washing as for most of the year hanging linen took almost no time at all to dry on the line. Her reply was that if she hung clothes out where they lived, not far from the city centre, because of the pollution in the atmosphere, they would probably become dirtier than before that had gone into the washing machine. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had read that <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is one of the world’s most polluted cities, but thought nothing of it until I caught that cold, but I started to wonder. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I got used to city life and thought little about it. The authorities assured us that things were getting better. The use of public transport that ran on natural gas rather than diesel or gasoline were, according to them, bringing huge remissions in the level of noxious gases in the air. The city have promoted, with dismal results, the introduction of electric cars and planted lots of trees. They had sensors all over the city and they wouldn’t lie to us, would they?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Except it is rumoured that the <b><a href="http://www.treehugger.com/corporate-responsibility/madrids-mayor-fiddles-air-pollution-results.html">placing of the sensors</a></b> was carefully selected to produce the best results.&nbsp;</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A huge screen over the tourist office in </span><st1:city style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colon</st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> displays colour-coded, red for bad, green for good, indications of the air quality. They are invariably green!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHs4JWPgbvQ/Tz-dsN2ud4I/AAAAAAAACCU/YQvWGUDI-y4/s1600/Madrid_City+Pollution+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHs4JWPgbvQ/Tz-dsN2ud4I/AAAAAAAACCU/YQvWGUDI-y4/s320/Madrid_City+Pollution+(4).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet, according to World Health Organisation, </span><st1:state style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">has seen a constant growth of polluted air over the past twenty years. Pharmacists say they have seen a steady rise in cases of asthma in the centre.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not surprised. Last month, when I briefly left the &nbsp;city to report on the church at Majorada del Campo, I stood on one of the towers and directed my camera back to the city. The result is the photograph that heads this post. It shows the city smothered in a black blanket of nastiness. While I was out there breathing in that wonderful clean country air, my friends in the city were breathing that in to their lungs. A news report on television that evening told us that due to a combination of still air and a temperature inversion over the city the atmosphere was officially dangerous. That the city has seen very little rainfall recently hadn’t helped. Apparently the situation was to last another day until winds rose to blow it away. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few days later, the group Ecologists in Action, presented some interesting findings and some damning criticism of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>’s plans to make our city a nicer place to live. The figures showed increasing levels of nitrogen dioxide and stuff called PM10, which is basically fine soot particles that can be carried deep into the lungs where they cause inflammation and worsening of heart and lung diseases. They often carry surface absorbed carcinogenic compounds into the lungs. The nitrogen dioxide also irritates the lungs and can lower resistance to colds and flu. Constant exposure can cause acute respiratory illness in children.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m no expert, so I’m quoting medical websites here. There’s also carbon monoxide, sulphur dioxide, hydrocarbons, volatile organic compounds and something called “TOMPs”, or “Toxic Organic Micropollutants”. These last two come from the un-burned residue of internal combustion engines. There’s a long list of what happens when you breath them in. Suffice to say none of them are pleasant.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, the Ecologists in Action then took a look at the remedies the Ayuntamiento had drawn up and found them lacking. Among their suggestions was a need for more areas of the city where the internal combustion engine is totally banned. To give <st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state>its due, much of the centre from Sol and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Callao</st1:city></st1:place>to the royal palace do have that in place and electric buses do thread the narrower lanes of the city. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They also suggested lowering the fares on public transport.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right now in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> this is a contentious issue. After raising the fare of a single ticket by fifty percent last summer, (while giving an eighty-percent reduction to the participants of the religion driven World Youth Day for a week – shakes head and wonders who’s in charge of PR for the city,) the metro is running a publicity campaign about how inexpensive it is compared with other cities around the world. For instance, they point out that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city> is nearly four times as expensive. The buses are just as cheap and they are all cheaper if you buy a multi-trip or season ticket.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, the posters proclaiming this value for money have attracted graffitied scrawls comparing costs of living in those countries. They point out that <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region>has some of the lowest wages in the western world, and that the cost of a metro ticket as a percentage of an average income actually makes <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>’s public transport expensive. And it is actually more expensive than they think. Central government heavily subsidises the city’s public transport. Realistic pricing of the metro and buses would be a serious political mistake an lead to huge demands for wage increases. With so much unemployment and low wages I see the graffistas&nbsp; point, but think it misguided and that they should be happy with such a cheap means of getting around the city.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the Ecologist want to see it cheaper still to encourage commuters out of their cars and on to the trains and buses. But they also want to limit the hours of using taxis. Gulp! Right now the only way to get home after the last metro is by taxi. Ok, there are the “owl” buses that circulate through the night, but they are not frequent and have limited routes. So the solution is to run the metro 24 hours a day. Assuming there is no maintenance on the track, of course.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ecologists do have a couple of very good ideas, though. One is for motorists to pay a charge for coming into the centre: this has worked well in many places such as the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city> congestion charge. Apparently a similar colour-coded scheme used in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mexico City</st1:place></st1:city>, which only allowed a limited number of vehicles in each day, reduced pollution by twenty percent. They claim that ninety-percent of cars coming into <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>only carry the driver. That the idea of car-pooling is unknown to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> commuters. Passenger-less drivers, they say, should pay a surcharge. As a pedestrian I agree with this. It might also make the roads safer for their other suggestion which is to encourage more cycling. Barcelona have the “bicing” (pronounced “beething”) scheme, which is a bicycle sharing program and last time I was there seemed to be working well – in the downhill direction at least. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> does have some cycle lanes, but in many places they have to be shared with the buses and taxis, and a big bus looming over your rear wheel can be unsettling!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Ayuntamiento has a plan outlining more than seventy measures to combat pollution, but the ecologists deemed this a “papel mojado”, a “wet paper”, which contained nothing which would limit the amount of traffic in the city.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Visitors who come here in July and August often comment on the lack of traffic on the streets, which produce hollow laughs from us residents. If we do not wish to walk around in a cloud of toxic waste we will have to change our ways. This will not be easy. Madrileños love their cars, though I have to say I do know some who keep their vehicles garaged and only use them when they escape the city. At other times they use public transport, which is very good indeed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I can’t help remembering an evening when I was complimented on a show of respect for not lighting up while enjoying a coffee with a non-smoking friend. At the time we were sitting in a terrace café situated on the central reservation of the calle de Juan Bravo. On both sides of us traffic spewed out noxious exhaust fumes, which didn’t seem to bother my friend one bit. But she was pleased I hadn’t lit a cigarette.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But she has always lived in the city. Some things will take time.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qufpGHtyvY8/Tz-d32W7TaI/AAAAAAAACCc/KLcfOa3NWmU/s1600/Madrid_City+Pollution+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qufpGHtyvY8/Tz-d32W7TaI/AAAAAAAACCc/KLcfOa3NWmU/s640/Madrid_City+Pollution+(6).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-14991439252569393982012-02-01T14:09:00.000+01:002012-02-01T14:09:00.511+01:00God's work in progress<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">By Richard Morley</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03c6rdIOSV0/Tykyco5xbjI/AAAAAAAAB_8/6R6uWlCE7CA/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03c6rdIOSV0/Tykyco5xbjI/AAAAAAAAB_8/6R6uWlCE7CA/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(6).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">In <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:city></st1:place>, the somewhat eccentric shape of Antonio Gaudi’s church of the <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família</span> looms over the city. Construction began in 1882 and is still not finished – and no one really knows when it will be. It’s a magnificent building and has taken the work of tens of thousands of man hours to arrive at its present condition.. In November 2010 the pope consecrated the building as a minor basilica. I am intrigued by the word, “minor”. If the impressive bulk of the Sagrada </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES;">Familia</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"> is only classed as minor, then I would love to see a major one.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The design of the building makes one stare in impressed amazement. That one man, Gaudi, could contemplate such a structure and communicate his vision to those who came after his sudden death under the wheels of a tram in 1926 and that his successors should also follow his dream, is almost a miracle. The architects that came after him would surely have wanted to put their personal stamp on the building. But no! His strange design continues to climb heavenward. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">I am sure that not everyone who sees the church thinks it is beautiful. All builders of monumental works have their detractors. There were probably those who while gazing at a growing medieval gothic cathedrals complained that they were too big, too ugly and that they should never have been allowed to be built.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Here, just outside <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>, this is happening now. In a small town called Mejorada del Campo a man is building a church. And he too has his critics.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lt21Fm-pO4o/Tykytnfzy4I/AAAAAAAACAE/MEKoExmvAfc/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(26a).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lt21Fm-pO4o/Tykytnfzy4I/AAAAAAAACAE/MEKoExmvAfc/s640/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(26a).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Justo Gallego Martínez was born in Soria in 1925 and became a monk. He contracted tuberculosis and it was felt the monastic life was detrimental to his health. He swore that if he could regain his health he would build a shrine to the Lady of Pilar, another name for Mary, the mother of Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8QOiv0Jwczg/Tyk3LUTbWoI/AAAAAAAACBs/2vCKHruUONg/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(29).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8QOiv0Jwczg/Tyk3LUTbWoI/AAAAAAAACBs/2vCKHruUONg/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(29).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Don Justo began building work in 1961 on an old olive grove belonging to his family. He had no money – he still doesn’t – and so made use of anything lying to hand. One man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure, it is said, and this is definitely the case here and the church is an exemplar of recycling. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">When you think of a “shrine”, you think of a small construction built into the side of an existing building or standing by a roadside. What Don Justo is building here has gone way beyond that. After fifty years of work this monument to the Lady of Pilar is nothing less than a small cathedral. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Swbd8RVKPc/Tyky8k3-sTI/AAAAAAAACAM/kEZPCH6DmTI/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(28).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Swbd8RVKPc/Tyky8k3-sTI/AAAAAAAACAM/kEZPCH6DmTI/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(28).JPG" width="372" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:place></st1:city>edifice has had the guiding hand of architects since its inception. It is regarded as the principal work of Gaudi, but he was not the first to work on the design, taking over from Francisco de Paula <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">del</st1:state></st1:place> Villa in 1883. Since Gaudi’s death, when Doménec Sugrañes i Gras continued the work, there has been a string of Architects and designers running the show. The methods of construction have been updated to the latest technology, which includes the off-site cutting of stone by computer controlled&nbsp; machines so the whole thing fits together like a giant three dimensional jigsaw. Tall cranes loom over the building like storks watching over a newly hatched brood. Safety regulations apply.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES;">It’s a little different in Mejorada del Campo. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">There is a large sign that tells the visitor that inspection of the work is permitted, but absolutely no responsibility will be taken for any injury suffered in the course of the visit. You can see why. The materials of construction litter the floor. Unfinished hand rails wobble to the touch. Unguarded levels hang precariously over ten to fifteen metre drops. Reinforced steel sticks out ready to snag the unwary. It is wise to tentatively test the rigidity of anything before using it for support.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J4tEWjOQIKM/TykzVRQlj7I/AAAAAAAACAc/bc9pJaguMx4/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J4tEWjOQIKM/TykzVRQlj7I/AAAAAAAACAc/bc9pJaguMx4/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(1).JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">There are no towering cranes. There is an old bicycle wheel with a rope thrown over it used to hoist heavy items into place. There are bouncy planks for wheeling wheel-barrows up slopes. There seems to be no scaffolding at all. The builder relies absolutely on the previous construction below to allow him access to the next level, which demonstrates a certain faith in the strength of construction. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8p8TnQc_ZLI/Tyk01f9MnHI/AAAAAAAACBE/65sIPJhMVNk/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8p8TnQc_ZLI/Tyk01f9MnHI/AAAAAAAACBE/65sIPJhMVNk/s320/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(19).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;"><b><i>The one mechanical aid - an old bicycle wheel with a rope slung over it.</i></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dtop6tJ9KYM/TykzGMn6ctI/AAAAAAAACAU/h-HCA9i7yqM/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dtop6tJ9KYM/TykzGMn6ctI/AAAAAAAACAU/h-HCA9i7yqM/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><b><i><span style="color: blue;">The plans.</span></i></b>&nbsp;</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pinned to a wall near the entrance is a single sheet of paper with a neatly drawn outline of the form the builder hopes the church will eventually take. But this is not a plan as such, more of an inspiration. The <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:place></st1:city> building may appear to take an organic form with hardly a straight line in sight, but Don Justo’s church really is the product of one man’s gut feeling of how something should be – on the day. Consequently there seems to be an evolution of ideas as the visitor climbs from the crypt, through the nave and up to the clerestory and then to take the narrow spiral stairs of the towers towards, on the day I was there, the bright blue Madrid sky and Don Justo’s heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fVxLOi2MSM4/Tyk2Y81lbKI/AAAAAAAACBU/BA31GEnsvuI/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(8).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fVxLOi2MSM4/Tyk2Y81lbKI/AAAAAAAACBU/BA31GEnsvuI/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(8).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">I write “The Builder” and “One man”. For unlike the thousands who have toiled on the Barcelona Basilica, this smaller, but no less grand edifice has only ever had one permanent worker – Don Justo himself. Friends and relative have been drafted in to help with the heavy lifting at times, but the hand if its creator is seen everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZX3w9jpL4k/Tyk2gGW7wlI/AAAAAAAACBc/LImLcaPg56c/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(17).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZX3w9jpL4k/Tyk2gGW7wlI/AAAAAAAACBc/LImLcaPg56c/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(17).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Don Justo is not a rich man. Far from it. He is quoted as saying, "I have no gold or silver; what I have I give to the Lord." What he does have is unbridled enthusiasm for his work. Everything else, every scrap of rebar, every brick and stone, each bag of cement, and the myriad of other items he has called into service for this project&nbsp; has been reclaimed from other people’s junk, donated by sympathetic patrons or bought from donations.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Od5y4WzRQ64/Tyk4dWV7C_I/AAAAAAAACCE/BhyWWwilrfo/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Od5y4WzRQ64/Tyk4dWV7C_I/AAAAAAAACCE/BhyWWwilrfo/s320/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(4).JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MMyIY_Jy3SU/Tyk4pArUSxI/AAAAAAAACCM/s4yr059rOTA/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(24).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MMyIY_Jy3SU/Tyk4pArUSxI/AAAAAAAACCM/s4yr059rOTA/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(24).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;">The nave and crypt</span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">And tennis balls!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Yes, you read that correctly! The external decoration of the eves is terminated by tennis balls dipped in cement. The man is a genius when it comes to the creative use of material. Reclaimed brick, cracked tiles, glass once used in other people’s houses and thrown out when double glazing was installed, broken bottles and what looks like the steel wire reinforcement found in car and bicycle tyres are all pressed into service.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-emPwPCYshtY/Tyk0BkWyiTI/AAAAAAAACA0/rIVeu-dnsyg/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(11).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-emPwPCYshtY/Tyk0BkWyiTI/AAAAAAAACA0/rIVeu-dnsyg/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(11).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<span style="color: blue;"><b><i>Concrete covered tennis balls along the bottom.</i></b></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><span style="color: blue;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFMsOUKpk5k/Tyk3wVQsnhI/AAAAAAAACB8/JpccfYo70kc/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFMsOUKpk5k/Tyk3wVQsnhI/AAAAAAAACB8/JpccfYo70kc/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(10).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><span style="color: blue;"><b><i>There seems to be more cement than brick! Kiln rejects used in construction of one of the towers.</i></b></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The church occupies the complete site, so it is its own storage warehouse of materials. But don’t get the impression the floors are strewn with rubbish. As best as can be the place is kept tidy and clean. It’s the odd corners and crannies where the most danger of tripping over cement bags or tangled steel is found. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-iJp3fglpA/Tyk3akfPaxI/AAAAAAAACB0/rH_rpspuRZU/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-iJp3fglpA/Tyk3akfPaxI/AAAAAAAACB0/rH_rpspuRZU/s640/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(2).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The visitor enters into the east side of the nave. To the left is the altar. Above, just below the clerestory are painted frescos depicting religious scenes. Tilting the head right back the roof of the nave soars twenty metres overhead, cut through with the circular aperture of the dome. The roof offers protection from the elements. Not yet the dome, which while having its steel prefabricated skeleton in place, does not yet boast any covering.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r867a865CBU/Tykzok0J0CI/AAAAAAAACAk/9wuIL54Nk1M/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(12).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r867a865CBU/Tykzok0J0CI/AAAAAAAACAk/9wuIL54Nk1M/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(12).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span style="color: blue;">Above and in the two pictures below: Don Justo working on the dome.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">However, along the western cloister, which features three much smaller domes, I spied and photographed Don Justo himself, standing precariously on a couple of narrow planks, attaching what seemed to me to be diamond shaped metal plates to the domes’ framing. The main dome, I presume, must wait until more material arrives. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDiHuk-_KH8/TykzxMJnabI/AAAAAAAACAs/1vFICE-B2PY/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(21).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDiHuk-_KH8/TykzxMJnabI/AAAAAAAACAs/1vFICE-B2PY/s640/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(21).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Indeed, the church will not be completed until more material arrives. Substantial as it is, and the church’s final form is more or less evident, much still needs to be done. Exploring the levels above the floor of the nave, stepping gingerly through heaps of as yet unused rebar and stone, I touched the balustrade and found it wobbled. Two very narrow, minaret like, towers that delineate the north transept are crammed with supplies. The climb to the top, on very steep, rather insubstantial steps, is not for the unsure of foot. And when you reach the top there is – nothing. Just a precarious overhang, which while giving wonderful views over the surrounding countryside and a bird’s eye view of the church, also infuse a severe feeling of vertigo. Don Justo must have the daring and balance of a mountain goat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ad7RDIRpoQQ/Tyk23Xp9lyI/AAAAAAAACBk/XEoy-Di-ObE/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(14).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ad7RDIRpoQQ/Tyk23Xp9lyI/AAAAAAAACBk/XEoy-Di-ObE/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(14).JPG" width="308" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span style="color: blue;">Garden and cloister.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">It is sad to think that all this work might be for nothing. The diocese in which it stands, <st1:place w:st="on">Alcala de Henares</st1:place>, has never given Don Justo their blessing for the project and have been quoted as saying they want nothing to do with the project. Mejorada del Campo has several churches already. It doesn’t need another, and not on this scale. The temporal authorities, the local council, while entertaining Don Justo’s whimsy have remarked that the building has no official planning permission (difficult when there are no plans!) and have commented on the strength and safety of the construction and have even suggested that they could demolish it after his death. However, anyone who visits can tell that this is a very solid structure. I doubt that Don Justo, taking his lead from the Bible, would have built his house on sand. My observations are confirmed by an architect, Carlos Luis Martin Fernandez, a doctor in structural engineering, who has said, “It is possible to say it is safe. It has the proper structural stability”, although going on to suggest that some additional strengthening be applied in a few places and there should be “appropriate” monitoring of the work.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EjismLvEpFI/Tyk16ebq6zI/AAAAAAAACBM/gMsYIwUSJNI/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(16).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="331" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EjismLvEpFI/Tyk16ebq6zI/AAAAAAAACBM/gMsYIwUSJNI/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(16).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><b><i><span style="color: blue;">&nbsp;Bits stick out everywhere.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The way I see it, the church is just about the only reason to visit the town. Bar and Café owners should be pleased with the extra income. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Opinion about the church in the community seems to be divided, but l</span>ike the <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Sagrada Família it will become a landmark. One, if it is still standing in a hundred years time will be the pride of the town. The Catholic Church might not want it, but it took more than a hundred years for the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:city></st1:place>edifice to be accepted and consecrated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-clMsItT6vgM/Tyk0dq-XIhI/AAAAAAAACA8/4wBCO8wa7h0/s1600/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(23).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-clMsItT6vgM/Tyk0dq-XIhI/AAAAAAAACA8/4wBCO8wa7h0/s400/Mejorada+del+Campo+Church+(23).JPG" width="351" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The church is built from recycled materials. Isn’t resurrection what the Christian church is meant to be about? What better example could it have? &nbsp;At 86 years of age, Don Justo’s time is running out. I hope his legacy continues after him. After all, no one thinks of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:place></st1:city>without thinking of Gaudi and his work. It might well be prophetic that after visiting the church in Mejorada del Campo, with one last look at the high ceiling of the nave, the light streaming in through coloured windows, and then to descend the steps leading down into the street in which it stands the visitor can take note of the sign bearing the name of that street, the “Calle del Arquitecto Antonio Gaudi”, and ponder if divine providence does indeed work in mysterious ways.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-3839553313525143782011-12-12T13:02:00.002+01:002011-12-12T13:04:16.157+01:00Marmite and what's this Radio Four?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Richard Morley</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yy6N8M_tqx0/TuXn2cg5ynI/AAAAAAAAB_Q/SA3f32QApqQ/s1600/Marmite+love+or+hate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yy6N8M_tqx0/TuXn2cg5ynI/AAAAAAAAB_Q/SA3f32QApqQ/s400/Marmite+love+or+hate.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all have our rituals. One of mine is to start each Saturday with coffee, toast and Marmite and to listen to either the News Quiz or the Now! Show on BBC radio channel 4. (They alternate.) Both programmes give a satirical slant to British politics. Why should I be interested in British politics when I haven't set foot in the country for five years is a good question, to which the answer is that one can never really escape your home country.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mean, did you notice the reference to Marmite. In the UK this foodstuff divides the nation. For the uninitiated, it is a dark, salty, almost black, paste made originally from the grunge found at the bottom of brewer's vats. You could almost describe it as industrial waste! And we eat it. No one would ever say, “Well, I sort of like Marmite”. You either love it or hate it. But in the rest of the world that thick, gooey paste is almost universally despised. I remember some French ex-colleagues throw several jars in the trash because they sniffed it and assumed it had gone bad. When we Brits explained it's meant to taste like that the look that passed over their faces was one of relief that they had eventually won the hundred years war, otherwise the perfidious English would be forcing it down their throats as a form of heinous torture. (Much like they do to geese!) My Spanish landlady asked me for a taste once. She's never asked again! It follows then that if you like Marmite you will, probably, be British. The opposite does not apply – it divides the Nation, remember!</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All nationalities have their own tastes. US residents in Madrid make this plain with their own store called, openly, <a href="http://www.tasteofamerica.es/">“A Taste of America”</a>.&nbsp;Us British tend to be more subtle, so the shop that caters to our food predilections is called, “<a href="http://www.thethingsyoumiss.com/Index_archivos/frame.htm">Things you miss”</a>. This shop sell everything from Frey Bentos Steak and Kidney pies to Sherbet Fountains and Wine gums, Tetley's Teas to Branston Pickle.They don't seem to have updated their website recently, hence the archive link, but you can find the shop in the Calle de Juan de Austria, 11. Nearest Metro is Bilbao.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spain has a wonderful cuisine. Those of us that live here permanently, as opposed to the ten day holiday-makers on the costas, learn to appreciate and embrace the tastes that the country has to offer, but from time to time it is natural that us guiris want a taste of home. Just last Saturday I was asked if I knew where one could buy porridge. I have no idea as I am not fond of the stuff. Perhaps one of my readers could enlighten us. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the Spanish are very chauvinistic about their food. For them, all other cuisines are at the least, suspect, and at most, horrible. I have a friend who when visiting Ethiopia, lived on sandwiches and completely missed the delicious, spicy dishes of that country. Another, who while telling me she liked foreign food, back-tracked quickly when I suggested an Indian in Lavapies. And when I first arrived here, just six years ago, a taste of anything British usually came in the form of food parcels sent by concerned relatives.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bKR8q_R3aCw/TuXpluIOe4I/AAAAAAAAB_g/o_HGHnxln54/s1600/Parsnips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bKR8q_R3aCw/TuXpluIOe4I/AAAAAAAAB_g/o_HGHnxln54/s400/Parsnips.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Parsnips - You can see why one of the assistants in Gold Gourmet calls them "Zanahorias Blancas" or "White carrots".</span></i></b></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That, I am happy to relate, has changed, but not by a lot. When I posted last year on Facebook that I had obtained Parsnips I was inundated with requests asking me from where? I have to admit I was of two minds whether to pass on the information. Suppose I went to the shop and found some earlier Brit had cleaned them out – on my advice? The shop, <a href="http://goldgourmet.es/?page_id=82">GoldGourmet</a>, (actually shops – in the plural, forming as they do a short high street of their own,) can be found at Calle José Ortega y Gasset, 85. Don't worry about that address – it's the cheap end of JOyG. Not anywhere near the Diors, Jimmy Choos, Burberry etc at the posh end. Nearest Metro is Lista (L4).</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Much the same happened when I posted about mature cheddar cheese and Branston Pickle. Where, where, where? Were people that desperate?</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AfdGkARaido/TuXpeZuGJLI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/2ZqpMA5BQi0/s1600/branstonpickle+and+cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AfdGkARaido/TuXpeZuGJLI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/2ZqpMA5BQi0/s400/branstonpickle+and+cheese.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Branston Pickle and Cheese.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of the larger hypermarkets on the outskirts, Carrefour et al, (but not their smaller branches in the centre,) now carry many food items of foreign origin. Since they finally extended line 2 of the metro to Las Rosas, my expeditions in search of British products have taken me to the Carrefour hypermarket there. The nearest metro stop is actually Alsacia and then its a two minute walk. There, recently, I loaded my trolley with English cheeses, Branston Pickle (they had piccalilli, but I didn't buy it), proper English back bacon, (Spain does ham very well, but not bacon,) Marmite, Bovril gravy granules and, amongst other things, it being Christmas, Mr Kipling's Mince Pies. Moving along the aisle a little I picked up a selection of Sharwood's Indian sauces. I have been experimenting with “fusion” food, which I call “Spindian” - Spanish - Indian. My albondigas jalfrezi are delicious! Even my Spanish landlady's kids like it! And Bovril seems to have replaced the Spanish caldo as a hot drink on a cold day. Spanish tastes can change!</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Along the same aisle were Filipino and Mexican delights. It just annoys me that I have to travel out of town to buy this stuff from a Carrefour, when my local Carrefour, just thirty metres from my apartment block, does not. It does sell HP baked beans though – another successful change in tastes I have brought to my Spanish family.</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">But loving Spanish food as I do, most of these items will last quite a while. So I can happily shop locally. But I despair of my local shop-keepers. Gold Gourmet, mentioned above, requires a half-hour walk for me, but there are three vegetable shops just minutes from my home. Shopping in my local market last week I asked Pepe, of Verduras Pepe, if he had Parsnips. (This was a repeat of the conversation I had three years ago which you can <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/01/food-fit-for-donkeys.html">read here</a>. </span><span style="color: black;">) History repeated itself as he shrugged and replied that, no, he hadn't, but then added that I was the third person who had asked him that day. An Englishman and a German Lady had also been searching for that wonderful vegetable. “So perhaps you will stock them in future”, I enquired. It seemed a market for them was developing within the barrio. “No”, he replied, “There's no demand”. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, perhaps us three do not a “demand” make, but we surely cannot be alone?</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But to return to the other half of my Saturday ritual – listening to the<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/radio"> BBC's radio 4</a> programmes.</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Should I not be listening to Spanish Radio to improve my listening skills? I should, and I do. Other rituals include always watching the early evening news on TV and occasionally tuning in to COPE radio. (I don't share their politics,but they do speak clearly!) But as a teacher of English it is also necessary to keep my skills in that language current. I am surrounded all day with such English as, “My sister, she work in Barcelona”, or “I am very fluently in English”. If I didn't have regular doses of mellifluous BBC English I might not notice those lapses in grammar and syntax. In fact, out of lessons I don't, so normal have these mistakes become to my ears. My professional life maybe in English, but I live in Spanglish.</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Incidentally, the English of visiting British youth could also do with infusions of Radio 4. I was sitting opposite some English youths on the metro recently and could hardly understand a word! And the double negatives in their sentences made me wince. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps I should return home to teach English there. It seems to be needed. But then I would miss all that wonderful Spanish food and that is something up with which I shall no longer put.</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Incidentally, if you live in Madrid and know of places where you can buy your favourite "missed" food or other items, perhaps you would like to tell us where in the comments below. If you are looking for something, you could ask and someone might have the answer.</span></i>&nbsp;</span></div><div class="western" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0.42cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-88340155225695619712011-11-27T17:26:00.001+01:002011-11-27T23:34:49.949+01:00Trains of Thought<br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Richard Morley.</span></i></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C6sqRgtCOeg/TtJl5PrW8VI/AAAAAAAAB-g/rpBHEattjLg/s1600/Madrid_Cercanias+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C6sqRgtCOeg/TtJl5PrW8VI/AAAAAAAAB-g/rpBHEattjLg/s400/Madrid_Cercanias+%25287%2529.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans”. Well, I have made a plan. It faces me from the cork board on the wall behind my computer. It is a printed spread sheet telling me where I have to be from now until the end of the year. My life has suddenly become more than busy.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too busy, I am afraid to maintain this blog in the way I would wish. Gone is the time I could devote to the visits and research I love to do. I haven't stopped completely as life always brings new questions to be answered, new places to see and wonder about.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year I have visited parts of Spain very new to me. I have experienced new delights and met new people. I have tried new food and learned more about local cultures. All of which are recorded for future blog posts and I will try to find the time to write something about them.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One chance encounter led to a twenty five percent increase in my teaching duties – and took me to new areas of Madrid I had not seen before. I have written about Madrid's public transport system, it's wonderful Metro, both heavy and light, and its convenient bus service, before. One thing I have only mentioned in <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-with-knight.html">passing</a>&nbsp;is Madrid's local commuter rail network known as the “Cercanias” - the system that brings thousands of workers into the city each day from the neighbouring suburbs and towns. It was this rail network that was attacked by terrorists on <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/03/march-11th-2004-we-shall-remember-them.html">March 11th 2004</a>, that took the lives of nearly two hundred people. If the metro and buses are the arteries of the city of Madrid, then the Cercanias are its lungs and throat, bringing into the city the “<span lang="es-ES">alimentación</span>” that keeps it alive.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have only occasionally used the Cercanias up to now. Now I have to count myself as a regular commuter, well, on Tuesdays and Thursdays at least. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dbUnEWBAWR0/TtJm_ChdMhI/AAAAAAAAB-4/qooQWyc-8w0/s1600/Madrid_Cercanias+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="98" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dbUnEWBAWR0/TtJm_ChdMhI/AAAAAAAAB-4/qooQWyc-8w0/s400/Madrid_Cercanias+%25285%2529.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I however, go in the other direction to most commuters. Madrid continues to expand. The cost of establishing a business in the centre of town is high and companies are setting up on the fringes. My job takes me from one office to another. I spend quite a lot of my time on the move. I enjoy this. I wouldn't like to be set in one place all the time. For me, each day's commute is in a different direction. But this new job is taking me, twice a week, to the very limits of the city. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet its cost to me is the time it takes to travel. In monetary terms the fares here are so ridiculously low I can pay for my journey with the change I get from buying a pack of cigarettes. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first railway line of the system, and indeed the first anywhere in Spain, was the line that ran from Madrid to Aranjuez, forty eight kilometres south of the city, which was completed in 1851. From those early beginnings the Cercania system has now grown to almost three hundred and fifty kilometres of track reaching out over most of the greater “<span lang="es-ES">Comunidad</span>” of Madrid, and one line takes you into neighbouring Castille y Leon. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CXFZ4t7lfbU/TtJmnIMPsAI/AAAAAAAAB-w/CUuW40hZVbo/s1600/Madrid_Cercanias+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="172" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CXFZ4t7lfbU/TtJmnIMPsAI/AAAAAAAAB-w/CUuW40hZVbo/s400/Madrid_Cercanias+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">On the way to the mountains north of Madrid.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can find a map of the system <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cercan%C3%ADas_Madrid2011v2.png"><b>here</b></a>.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once a diverse amalgamation of different companies the Cercanias were nationalised, like all the other railway companies, in 1941, and come under the control of RENFE, (<span style="color: black;">Red Nacional de los Ferrocarriles Españoles). Some of the local lines were narrow gauge and continued to be so until 1970.</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Unlike the commuter trains of other cities, the Cercanias do not stop at terminal stations,leaving the journey to work to be completed by other modes of transport. The Cercanias come right into the heart of the city, underground, and completely hidden from the sight of tourist who might not even suspect the system exists. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Ok, that last statement is not as true as is used to be. Following four long years of tunnelling and construction, the Cercanias arrived in the Puerta del Sol, the most central point in the city. Visitors may well have noticed the signs directing those using the Metro to descend even deeper into what has been called “Europe's largest man-made cavern”, but they will have passed through towards their subway line and not really given it a thought. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Similarly, if you have ever changed metro lines at Nuevos Ministerios, and you will have if you have travelled into the city by metro from the airport, you might not have noticed that part of that sprawling mess is a very extensive series of platforms for the Cercanias. From there you can travel south to Aranjuez or north to Colmenar Viejo. You can now, if you wanted to avoid the four stops on line 8, take the Cercania to terminal four at Barajas. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">They have been promising us this direct link from the airport to the city centre for years. Up to very recently the only way, using public transport, into the city has been via the metro, with at least one, sometimes two changes of line depending on the destination, or on the regular, but subject to traffic, shuttle bus. Now we have a direct line Cercania – BUT IT GOES TO THE WRONG PLACE! </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The new line, C1, from the airport passes through Nuevos Ministerios, but from there, instead of going to Sol, where most tourists will want to go,being a) central, and b) within walking distance of hundreds of hotels and hostels, and c) connects to three Metro lines, it passes through Recoletos, which has none of those three advantages mentioned. In fact Recoletos is pretty useless unless you work nearby. Sol, on the other hand is the most used station in Madrid. So why RENFE, why? The main advantage of running a direct link from the airport to the city centre has been lost. And Recoletos connects with nothing. If you alight there, you will have to carry your bags three hundred metres down to Cibeles where you can catch a bus or a single metro line. On behalf of several friends who visit Madrid often I feel annoyed at this stupid bit of routing.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and you can only take the Cercanias from Terminal 4. So if you arrive at 1,2 or 3, won't have the option anyway.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">But if you do arrive at terminal 4 and take the Cercanias, you will either have to change at Chamartin station, (as recommended by RENFE) Nuevos Ministerios, as you did before, to Cercanias lines C3 or C4, or travel on to Atocha to change to line 1 of the metro – possible the worst and most over-crowded line on the network. At great expense, nothing has been improved. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Be that as it may, the Cercanias are clean, cheap and are only crowded during rush hour. They are also quiet. Totally electrified and running on the smoothest track imaginable, you can read or listen to music in peace. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AiNfQ9W9_jw/TtJmJ1PmosI/AAAAAAAAB-o/PExBHf0Jq-Y/s1600/Madrid_Cercanias+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AiNfQ9W9_jw/TtJmJ1PmosI/AAAAAAAAB-o/PExBHf0Jq-Y/s400/Madrid_Cercanias+%25289%2529.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><i>The inside of one of the carriages. Obviously this is not rush Hour.</i></b></span>&nbsp; </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They also run on time – and in the mornings, very frequently. On the route I use, at least, a train leaves for my destination every ten minutes. And I always get a seat!</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Changing the subject:</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I was attending a meeting with other teachers recently. All of them were reporting, like me, if they wanted it, an increase in workload. We may well be in a recession, but language teaching seems to be hardly affected. It's not just English. French and German are also, it seems, needed by Spanish businessmen and women. Not all companies have been affected by the crisis. They might not be enjoying the boom times of recent years, and this is probably, and not too late, making them reflect on their marketing strategies. The companies I teach at are telling me something very interesting: it is not a priority for their employees to pass an exam in English. They want their employees to close the deal, sell, get the contract signed, advertise and network – and whether this is done grammatically or not is not important, so long as communication is established. </span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grammar teachers – don't send me hate mail. I will state here and now that conjugation and syntax are vitally important when communication needs to be precise. Dates and terms of agreements have to definitely understood on both sides. What these employers mean is they want to concentrate on practical communication. And if that means slipping out of the grammatical and into the vernacular, then that is what they want.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily, that is exactly what I teach. Coming from a technical / scientific background that morphed into management seems to have worked in my favour. The business student wants useful language skills and I have lost count of the number of times one of my students has commented that vocabulary within that business context that I introduce into my lessons was never taught to them at any “academic” language establishment. And they wonder why?</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Business English (BE), English for Special purposes (ESP), and other forms of useful language skills should be our priority if we have those types of students. Get away from the academic and into the realms of the practical. And if you don't know the vocabulary, you can learn it. In recent months I have taught British and American Legal, Accountancy, Marketing, Technical and Scientific, (where I had to learn all the terms needed in meteorology incidentally!) and Financial English. In business, a basic vocabulary, while useful, is not enough. And employers here know it.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the light of that, one of the teachers I met with thinks that the market for business English will remain strong for at least the next decade. That should see me into my dotage nicely!</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another change of subject:</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I bought <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/01/food-fit-for-donkeys.html">Parsnips</a>&nbsp;</span><span style="color: black;">and Brussels sprouts a couple of days ago. A sure sign that Christmas is nearly with us. After the aforementioned teachers' meeting, I wondered down to the Plaza España and lunched on <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/12/castanas-asando-sobre-una-fuego-abierto.html">Chestnuts</a>.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5lCOVsT_1eg/TtJncvGe1pI/AAAAAAAAB_A/dDa6w9kUB7s/s1600/Madrid_Chestnuts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5lCOVsT_1eg/TtJncvGe1pI/AAAAAAAAB_A/dDa6w9kUB7s/s400/Madrid_Chestnuts.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The Christmas illuminations have been turned on and nativity scenes (<a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-very-small-town-of-bethlehem.html">belens</a>)&nbsp;</span>are starting to appear in shop windows. I love this time of year in Madrid. Everyone seems to be even more friendly than normal and the Christmas parties, at least for me, begin next weekend.</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WUBRi1DQvyw/TtJn7eOjSPI/AAAAAAAAB_I/J0gCHvuyDrI/s1600/Madrid_Calle+Goya+with+church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="313" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WUBRi1DQvyw/TtJn7eOjSPI/AAAAAAAAB_I/J0gCHvuyDrI/s400/Madrid_Calle+Goya+with+church.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just hope I can find the time to enjoy them!</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-68129412283523835952011-10-05T16:45:00.001+02:002011-10-05T18:40:39.452+02:00Madrid Suburbia - On Route 66<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><b><i>By Richard Morley.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Is9ZS5pPDg/ToxiI3qXPpI/AAAAAAAAB6E/yU7ZXbUYjxo/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252829%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Is9ZS5pPDg/ToxiI3qXPpI/AAAAAAAAB6E/yU7ZXbUYjxo/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252829%2529.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The Poet Antonio Machado claimed there were two <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spains</st1:place></st1:country-region>. He was writing about the divide caused by the Civil War, but as I wrote in my last post, there are still two <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrids</st1:place></st1:state>: The one the tourist experiences and the one in which we live. The visitor knows the centre of the city including the infamous “Three Ps”. Away from that centre they would get a different, and more truthful perspective of the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">So, putting shoe-leather where my mouth is, I thought I would take my little camera out there and actually show you. And Antonio Machado’s quote is apt because my first expedition led me to his eponymous calle and Metro station. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We are in the extreme west of the city proper. A few hundred metres west the concrete and brick open up to green countryside. Golf courses and the “Hipódromo de la Zarzuela”, <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>’s horse racing course, find their home here among the rolling hills where, after a half hour’s walk you can forget the city exists.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Here, the city is bounded by the multi-laned M30 ring road. And the city comes right up to its edges. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJuWO0G1TLQ/ToxidfHkp4I/AAAAAAAAB6I/aTKzWiV5Mpo/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252825%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJuWO0G1TLQ/ToxidfHkp4I/AAAAAAAAB6I/aTKzWiV5Mpo/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252825%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Exiting from the metro station, serving the two Colonias of Saconia and the charmingly named Valdeconejos, or “Valley of the Rabbits”, we find a broad, open road&nbsp; lined with well spaced and modern apartment blocks. These buildings utilize modern materials in bright and light colours. No grey granite canyons as seen in the centre. Between road way and residences lie green, grassy gardens and children’s play parks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FdwjfoqgB-g/Toxi2ZCYTyI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/hUM7yVGHKx8/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252826%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FdwjfoqgB-g/Toxi2ZCYTyI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/hUM7yVGHKx8/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252826%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The road runs along a natural valley that exits from a tunnel that brings the traffic underground from Castellana. Thanks to this program of taking the traffic under the city these residential areas are mercifully free from exhaust fumes and grid-lock. Yet, not too far away the looming bulks of the Cuatro Torres peer over the roof tops.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3jg6H4N4X0/Toxjt5JTluI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/yfk-7ZwD-8w/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252830%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3jg6H4N4X0/Toxjt5JTluI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/yfk-7ZwD-8w/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252830%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">You are out of the city, but still part of it. The metro will have you in Sol in twenty minutes. As Mason Cooley wrote, “<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">A suburb is an attempt to get out of reach of the city without having the city be out of reach”.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtQu1t7kIU/ToxiqcZDK3I/AAAAAAAAB6M/uGv43ZfH2Ro/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252832%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtQu1t7kIU/ToxiqcZDK3I/AAAAAAAAB6M/uGv43ZfH2Ro/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252832%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">&nbsp;Looking across the valley to the Barrio del Pilar.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">On either side of that valley the land rises quite steeply, revealing a cascade of apartment blocks, one behind the other. A lot of people live here. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">This is a recent development. As we climb the sides of the valley we begin to find older areas. Here are found the abominations of sixties concrete and glass. Architecture can easily be divided into three classes: The Good, The bad and the Ugly. These older apartment blocks are not pretty. They were built, at a price, to house a rapidly increasing population. The passing years have lent a maturity to the streets. The shops, the bars, those little plazas where the old relax in the sun and the young play, give a sense of community. There is nothing for the tourist to see, but this is where we live.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmII3idTqiQ/Toxm6hTqAvI/AAAAAAAAB7M/hEuHy1guZGM/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252824%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmII3idTqiQ/Toxm6hTqAvI/AAAAAAAAB7M/hEuHy1guZGM/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252824%2529.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">New development in the Valley of the Rabbits has basically reached its western limit, but head north and there is lots of space.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I work a bit in the northern suburbs and so come with me on a journey.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Heading to the northern end of the Paseo Castellana the traveller arrives at the plaza Castilla. This is deemed a gateway out of the city. &nbsp;The leaning towers of the KIO buildings are a more modern expression of the historical Puertas of Alcala and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Toledo</st1:place></st1:city>, but perform the same function. After seemingly endless years of construction the Plaza now boasts a modern public transport interchange boasting three metro lines and countless town and country bus routes and is one metro stop from Chamartin mainline railway station.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I could have taken the metro the four stops to Tres Olivos, but instead chose to take the bus. Just about the first things we pass are the towering Cuatro Torres. Built to take advantage of a business boom that now will arrive later than planned these buildings are magnificent. Approaching two hundred and fifty metres in height their glass shimmers in the sun. As they stand on the highest part of the city their pinnacles are higher above sea-level than any other building in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>. On cloudy days the tops just disappear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;"><b><i>Apartment blocks give shade on a sunny day.</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Xq1fNF_Dg/Toxjbnd13BI/AAAAAAAAB6U/pR4ahsK9EbE/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Xq1fNF_Dg/Toxjbnd13BI/AAAAAAAAB6U/pR4ahsK9EbE/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Opposite them, we turn sharply and enter the Colonia of San Cristobal that I <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-in-colonies.html">wrote aboutlast year</a>. C</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">rossing the M30 we head into Fuencarral and already the city of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:city> is forgotten. The winding streets and low old buildings betray its earlier independence from the city. You could be easily passing through an old English Market town built years before town planning was a reality. Through the built up area and now we pass into new developments and eventually into Tres Olivos.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35gmAxjRLeQ/ToxkNd5lGnI/AAAAAAAAB6c/9t995uxc0Ew/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35gmAxjRLeQ/ToxkNd5lGnI/AAAAAAAAB6c/9t995uxc0Ew/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%25285%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Built in a natural hollow the concept is interesting, but lacking in imagination. A wide elliptical plaza fill the bottom of the hollow with streets radiating away in higher concentric ellipses. Around the plaza, cutting it off from its surroundings, stand two rings of high apartments. East and south the concentric streets boast modern “Chalet” (and in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> they pronounce the final “t”) style housing with walled suburban gardens. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">At ground level the blocks surrounding the plaza contain small shops. Several are out of business and boarded up giving a slight air of dilapidation. This is a residential area. Commerce tends to be limited to groceries, hairdressers, and banks. Perhaps it was better before the metro with it fast service into the city opened, but now it seems a little forlorn.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The plaza rejoices in the name of the “Ronda del Ingenioso <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Hidalgo</st1:state></st1:place>”. Of course, a reference to that fabulous knight, Don Quijote. Knowing that whoever gets the job of naming <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> streets tends to go in <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/signs-of-times.html">themes</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">&nbsp;I looked around for other street names. Working concentrically outwards I found the “Ronda del Caballero de la Mancha”. Hey! Wait a minute. Surely these are both names for Don Quijote? But moving on the next street was named for his horse, Rocinante, but then I discovered the “Calle del Caballero de la Triste Figura”. &nbsp;That’s another name for the ingenious knight. Either the person who names streets was being very ingenious him or herself, or just being plain lazy. Or perhaps they just feed Spanish literature into a computer and expect it to come up with random, or not so random as it turns out, street names.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WeCUEDyLg98/Toxkl2WmFvI/AAAAAAAAB6g/J-CGPc0oyU0/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25286%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WeCUEDyLg98/Toxkl2WmFvI/AAAAAAAAB6g/J-CGPc0oyU0/s320/Madrid_Suburbia+%25286%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1UcxTPoNEU8/ToxkurtYfCI/AAAAAAAAB6k/QadwiBKImII/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252811%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="99" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1UcxTPoNEU8/ToxkurtYfCI/AAAAAAAAB6k/QadwiBKImII/s320/Madrid_Suburbia+%252811%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHz-_Xvte3U/Toxk3O3jnGI/AAAAAAAAB6o/Mmms54l7dMw/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="84" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHz-_Xvte3U/Toxk3O3jnGI/AAAAAAAAB6o/Mmms54l7dMw/s320/Madrid_Suburbia+%25287%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Either way it would annoy the heck out of me if I had to write ““Ronda del Caballero de la Mancha” or “Calle del Caballero de la Triste Fugura” every time someone wanted my address. My landlady agrees and thanks providence that our address is a single two-syllabled name. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S8O2kX1H3tw/Toxk-ePI__I/AAAAAAAAB6s/wOUi-vIzg6s/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S8O2kX1H3tw/Toxk-ePI__I/AAAAAAAAB6s/wOUi-vIzg6s/s200/Madrid_Suburbia+%25289%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Eventually other Quijote characters popped out of the street naming procedure. There is the “Calle del Caballero de los <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Leones</st1:country-region></st1:place>”, “Calle del Caballero de los Espejos”, and the Calles “de Casildea de Vandalia”, and “Bella Altisidora”, but those last two are the same person as well! No surprise then that I eventually came across the “ Bar Quijote”.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iLGAUAvCf78/ToxlLCNDlCI/AAAAAAAAB6w/VNhujFxQ85o/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iLGAUAvCf78/ToxlLCNDlCI/AAAAAAAAB6w/VNhujFxQ85o/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%25288%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">However, repetitive street naming aside, this small neighbourhood seems a pleasant place to live. The streets give a sense of space and respectability. Climbing quite a lot of steps I arrived in neighbouring Fuencarral park that looked down on it all and gave splendid views across the city to the south. Then I wandered up to the Tres Olivos Metro Station that did have three trees planted outside although none were actually olives and went on to the next part of the suburbs I want to show you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hMFc5p-nLns/ToxlaWjl7GI/AAAAAAAAB60/aKEgZ4YUTT4/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252813%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hMFc5p-nLns/ToxlaWjl7GI/AAAAAAAAB60/aKEgZ4YUTT4/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252813%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ODXfMndNQ8E/ToxlrCdqUQI/AAAAAAAAB64/atNpHsx4YBs/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ODXfMndNQ8E/ToxlrCdqUQI/AAAAAAAAB64/atNpHsx4YBs/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252812%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Fuencarral Park. It's difficult to escape the Cuatro Torres, even this far out.&nbsp;</span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But before I do: That bus route I took to get there? Well, I got my pics – on route 66. Sorry about that!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">It’s just two stops on the metro to get to Las Tablas. Again the central area is a large ellipse bisected by the crossroads of two underused four lane highways. Las Tablas is very new. The first time I visited most of it was under construction. Some still is! There are no suburban “Chalets” here, but gated blocks of six and seven storey apartments encircling their own private gardens. Some boast swimming pools and tennis / paddle courts and lawns for relaxing and taking the sun. Ideal for raising small families in relative security as one of my students, a very recent mother of twins, is doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SeQWZTw7rH0/Toxl_NnKsJI/AAAAAAAAB68/58TXtQqTSnE/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252833%2529+Las+Tablas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SeQWZTw7rH0/Toxl_NnKsJI/AAAAAAAAB68/58TXtQqTSnE/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252833%2529+Las+Tablas.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Las Tablas</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The apartment blocks are pleasing on the eye, if not beautiful, and the spaces between blocks is immense with plenty of sunlight and a sense of total unconfinement. If it wasn’t so far out of the city I would move there. You really need a car, and then, with the M40 encircling the neighbourhood just a few hundred metres away, you can get anywhere quickly. If you don’t have a car then there are three ways to get into town: Bus, Metro and Metro Ligero, or the over-ground light railway.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmt8mVQEnyk/ToxmNnZxwRI/AAAAAAAAB7A/90ddb03u9DA/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmt8mVQEnyk/ToxmNnZxwRI/AAAAAAAAB7A/90ddb03u9DA/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252819%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Madrid</span></st1:place></st1:state><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> boasts three lines of light railway. There are two quite long ones to the west of the city, leaving from the Colonia Jardin, that will take you a long way out of the city. The line that arrives at Las Tablas is comparatively short, only nine stations and half of its route is actually underground, putting the “light” railway in the “dark”, so to speak. The trains consist of five short, flexible carriages, enabling them to be steered around some quite tight bends. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UUIdfS1EX1A/ToxmXCLI_jI/AAAAAAAAB7E/QnvWloESsNA/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UUIdfS1EX1A/ToxmXCLI_jI/AAAAAAAAB7E/QnvWloESsNA/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252817%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">This line, 1, of the metro ligero takes you from Las Tablas into the city where it connects with lines 1 and 4 of the real metro. I write “real” as the metro ligero reminds me a fairground ride; Not very fast and you feel every bump and twist as you seem to chug along, but it’s clean, comfortable and very well air-conditioned and so a pleasure to use and, unlike the metro, enables the passenger to view the city passing outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dNFPZfPkUvY/ToxmjxHA_VI/AAAAAAAAB7I/kbJSC1DkXfI/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252822%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="107" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dNFPZfPkUvY/ToxmjxHA_VI/AAAAAAAAB7I/kbJSC1DkXfI/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252822%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Ranks of Apartment Blocks in&nbsp;</span></i></b></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Sanchinarro</span></i></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Line 1 takes you through the neighbourhood of&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sanchinarro</span>. It is here the northward expansion of the city began. Old <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>slowly merges into new. Narrow streets become wide thoroughfares. Mature publics gardens are replaced with scrubby, sapling planted, open spaces. But most of “old” <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>here is scarcely more than fifty years of age, so the next generation will enjoy it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Most of the apartment blocks are around eight stories, but soaring above them is a building that up until recently intrigued me. Seen from a distance from the inside of the metro ligero, the “<st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://www.galinsky.com/buildings/mirador/index.html">Mirador Building</a></st1:place>” is fascinating. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-54vee7AEVLc/ToxnI0CPxAI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/M3rPGEfqgGI/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%252820%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-54vee7AEVLc/ToxnI0CPxAI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/M3rPGEfqgGI/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%252820%2529.JPG" width="316" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Twenty stories high and looking like it was built from left over Lego blocks I am sure that this is a design you either love or hate. Designed to be a self-contained vertical village it has an open area for kids to play in (on) on the twelfth floor. It is a plaza with amazing views I am sure, but as to whether it fulfils that purpose, (is there a bar, fountain, swings and climbing frames?) I am not sure. Walking round it I found just one entrance which seemed severe and unwelcoming and resembling the entrance stairway to some science fiction spaceship. It is a building out of the pages of Brave New World. I personally don’t think it belongs in this one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I am not sure how it fits into the categories of Good or Bad, but now I have seen it close up, I am convinced it is Ugly. As the link here says, it is certainly innovative and striking in its outward appearance, but some have remarked it’s not really suited for its purpose. I can see what Prince Charles of <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region> means when he speaks of a “carbuncle on the face of a well-loved friend” while describing a modern extension to one of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city>’s classic buildings. The <st1:placename w:st="on">Mirador</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Building</st1:placetype>in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is not beautiful and not in the right place. It is totally out of keeping with its surrounds. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But as the tall apartment blocks of old <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place>testify, going up is the only solution to a housing crisis where space is limited. (Ask those living on <st1:city w:st="on">Manhattan</st1:city> in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state>!) When the building boom began in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>in the fifties and sixties it suffered from the same architectural solutions that were being muted in other cities across the world. Steel, Glass and reinforced concrete were regarded as low cost solutions whose problems and lack of aesthetics did not truly become apparent until time had taken its toll.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">When I wrote about the <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-in-colonies.html">“Colonias” of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place></a>&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I applauded the movement towards low cost housing. But that was on a small scale. The greater problems that came mid-century together with the new “wonder” building materials, contrived to produce slums for the future. This is evident in parts of Madrid today, such as in San Blas and the Barrio del Pilar (which do have better examples of building design before anyone complains) and the Barrio of Conception, which I can unfortunately see from my apartment fifth floor window.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHhuJ0XPMd4/ToxoCRybJCI/AAAAAAAAB7U/Yx1sdsCSy8A/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHhuJ0XPMd4/ToxoCRybJCI/AAAAAAAAB7U/Yx1sdsCSy8A/s400/Madrid_Suburbia.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Bad and Ugly in The Barrio de Concepción</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PbDBDvSb7E8/ToxoSLOmL0I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/DVAA53dNNS8/s1600/Madrid_Suburbia+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PbDBDvSb7E8/ToxoSLOmL0I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/DVAA53dNNS8/s400/Madrid_Suburbia+%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Same Barrio, but better.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Today’s buildings appear to have had more thought gone into their outward appearance (mostly), although residents in them complain of paper thin adjoining walls, and are a far cry from those depicted in Pedro Almodovar’s film, <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: black;">¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto?, which was filmed, incidentally, in those same ugly blocks in the Barrio de Conception. Greater planning control and more rigorous building regulations might mean that today’s solution to housing results in a more attractive city. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Unlike cities in the UK, Madrid does seem to be avoiding inner-city blight with the flight to the suburbs, for which we can thank the tourists who come to see “Historical Madrid” and the young and not so young who keep the barrios of Chueca and La Latina alive as there is precious little night life in the suburbs. Which perhaps means that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place>has struck the right balance. Although it might keep the Metro running a bit later to allow us to get back home.</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But most of us can’t afford to live in the centre. The “afueras” (outskirts) offer affordable, secure housing at a good price. I hope some of what I have shown you here demonstrates that. I only went, out of convenience, to three districts. There are many more just as good. Perhaps the more enlightened visitor might like to board the metro ligero and see them now, before they too become “Historic Madrid”.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">PS The visitor who would like to explore more but needs to be pointed in the right direction might like to read these other posts:</span></i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/03/madrid-is-not-just-prado-1.html">Parque Juan Carlos Primero</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/03/madrid-is-not-just-prado-el-museo-de-la.html">Museo de la Ciudad</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/linear-living.html">The linear city</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/07/madrid-answers-to-questions.html">Things that people wanted to know</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/11/friends-food-mountains-and-music.html">Out in the mountains</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/04/kingdom-by-stream.html">A village with its own king</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/10/far-from-maddening-crowds.html">A private public park</a></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2011/06/madrid-new-riverside-park-madrid-rio.html">Madrid Rio</a></span></li></ul><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-57305456963507806492011-09-09T12:44:00.001+02:002011-09-09T12:55:35.130+02:00September Song<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">By Richard Morley.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XdWtPgnDujE/Tmnrx9YJZTI/AAAAAAAAB50/g_Lhvx3mgRA/s1600/CIMG1846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XdWtPgnDujE/Tmnrx9YJZTI/AAAAAAAAB50/g_Lhvx3mgRA/s400/CIMG1846.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Cuatro Torres on a sunny day.</span></i></b> </span></div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The guy who plays the accordion has returned to his pitch halfway up the double escalator at Cruzco metro station. His dreary renderings of Ave Maria once again accompany my ascent from platform to pavement as I strive to arrive on time for the lesson. Like most of the population of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid,</st1:place></st1:state> he’s been absent for the past month. Their place was taken by tens of thousand of camera snappy, culture vulture tourists, who just have to “do” the Prado, oh!, and a million and a half of the pope’s groupies. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Now, except for a few stragglers, the visitors have gone home. I hope they have happy memories of this most wonderful of towns, but I am glad they’ve gone. (With a notable exception who I am going to miss! Ah! No name! I have to maintain an air of mystery.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I suppose many who live in places deemed “tourist destinations” have similar thoughts. What the visitor comes to see, those things I famously call the “Three Ps” of the Prado, the Palacio Real and the Plaza Mayor, with maybe a side trip to the Retiro Park or the new Madrid Rio embankment park (if they venture that extra half kilometre out of the centre,) all assiduously recorded on a million digital cameras, are what they will tell their neighbours and colleagues about when they return home. “<st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is so <i>historical! </i>”, they will exclaim.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">And that includes that monolithical concrete lump of an eyesore called the Bernabéu Stadium, which happily, might not be around for much longer as there are plans by the club to replace it with a steel and glass monolith including a new shopping mall. I am not detracting from the sporting skill of the club, just their choice of architects! And to be honest, there are a few other buildings in that area that hark back to the concrete and glass heyday of the sixties and could well, should be, replaced.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9oR6MFYeGyE/TmnvyCewelI/AAAAAAAAB6A/3nLEtAhlmIs/s1600/CIMG1190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9oR6MFYeGyE/TmnvyCewelI/AAAAAAAAB6A/3nLEtAhlmIs/s320/CIMG1190.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Possibly Madrid's ugliest building</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Travel more than a kilometre from Sol and, with a couple of exceptions, that sense of “historical” <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> disappears. Most of what constitutes the city dates back not much further than the 1950s. Gran Via itself is only a hundred years old. Yes, a lot of it is a Jungla Cristal of not very attractive apartment and office blocks, which is not what the tourist has come to see. Yet that is where the people are, and it’s the spirit, the friendliness of those people which is the essence of this city I now call home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Like all large cities the majority of the population are immigrants. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Madrileños</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> who can trace their ancestry back two or three generations and stay within the city are few and far between. These are the so-called “gatos”, or <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> cats. I do have a friend who can go back five generations and when I mention this I am met with expressions of amazement. It is very unusual. But the spirit of the city imposes itself even on us new-comers and we don’t, in the main, live in “historical” <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>. We live in a modern, bustling, vibrant town that, yes, like any place that predates 1776 actually has some history!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ak0SAH_WP_Q/TmnuBBtKyLI/AAAAAAAAB58/fGnqOqZu1qk/s1600/Madrid_Business+District.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ak0SAH_WP_Q/TmnuBBtKyLI/AAAAAAAAB58/fGnqOqZu1qk/s320/Madrid_Business+District.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>The Business District in Castellana</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">From the soaring Cuatro Torres, <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>’s highest skyscrapers, to the bottom of Castellana this spirit is evident in the architecture. But who is the brave tourist who ventures north of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colon</st1:place></st1:city>? Or west of the Palace, east of the Puerta de Alcala, south of Atocha? Yet that is where you’ll find the real <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I want to drag our visitors out to the Parque Juan Carlos Primero to see new thinking. I want to lead them around the streets and markets of Carabanchel. I want them to see some fantastic modern architecture in <st1:city w:st="on">Alcobendas</st1:city> and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alcorcon</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Instead, when a tourist wishes to escape the town centre, where do they go? <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Toledo</st1:place></st1:city>! I am sure history is fascinating to those who have little history themselves, but just because we in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place> do, they shouldn’t ignore our more modern achievements.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I know on this blog I tend to write about the historical myself, because it fascinates me. But in the same way that I tell people to cross over the Paseo de Prado and visit the Thyssen-Bornemisza gallery (much more interesting than the Prado) I want our visitors to see beyond the “Three Ps” and experience a real Madrid, the living city, not the time capsulated centre where even the modernisations look old.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l5jd2fC236Y/TmnsASoM1dI/AAAAAAAAB54/o6J0uWB5LBs/s1600/City+Gents.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l5jd2fC236Y/TmnsASoM1dI/AAAAAAAAB54/o6J0uWB5LBs/s320/City+Gents.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Men in suits.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">But they’ve gone now, these interlopers. We have returned to our offices and classrooms (or soon will). We still have clear, brilliant blue skies with thirty degree plus temperatures, but the shorts and patterned shirts have been replaced with business suits and ties (reinforcing my belief that Spanish men are nuts as the ladies are still sensibly wearing thin strapped summer numbers), the metro is crowded and the lines for the Menu del Día are long.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mind you, we break into our work schedule gently here in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>. The first full week of work ends ……… in a bank holiday. I mean a full five days would be too much for the poor things!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">And the accordionist sits on his stool halfway up the escalators at Cruzco and plays Ave Maria. <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is ours again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Don’t worry. We will lend it to you again next year. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-35232656283353946402011-08-18T15:53:00.000+02:002011-08-18T15:53:19.761+02:00Suffer Little Children to Come Unto Me!<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">By Richard Morley.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q01J0cxxOZk/Tk0W7YRebLI/AAAAAAAAB5E/vSSWRe-OQRg/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q01J0cxxOZk/Tk0W7YRebLI/AAAAAAAAB5E/vSSWRe-OQRg/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25287%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As I write this the Pope has just arrived at <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>, Barajas airport and on my TV screen is being greeted by the great and the good. He is here to lead the celebrations for la </span><span>Jornada</span><span lang="EN-GB"> Mundial </span><span>Jóvenes</span><span lang="EN-GB">, or World youth day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">His arrival has been preceded over the past few days by an estimated one and a half million pilgrims. Most of them are in their teens or early twenties, although there are a few that most definitely are no longer in the throws of </span><span>juventud</span><span lang="EN-GB">. They seem to be enjoying themselves. As I travelled into the centre of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> yesterday evening my Metro carriage was stuffed to the walls with young people wearing the official yellow tee-shirt emblazoned with a giant M. As we alighted at Gran Via station one of their number started to sing and the refrain was picked up by EVERY OTHER similarly clothed person on the platform. The serenade continued as we slowly rose on the escalators to the surface.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zCYdwS8foEM/Tk0XDDqMqFI/AAAAAAAAB5I/u5KzWc9xrO0/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zCYdwS8foEM/Tk0XDDqMqFI/AAAAAAAAB5I/u5KzWc9xrO0/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252817%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">There, the normal residents of </span><span>Montera</span><span lang="EN-GB">, famous for its ladies of “negotiable affection”, had been replaced by groups of singing, cheering, flag-waving kids. The neighbouring McDonalds burger joint was packed with hungry youth, the pavements of Gran Via, and side streets, heaving with visitors.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjobPmgVVFo/Tk0XZ55BhLI/AAAAAAAAB5M/fswDvst6W44/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjobPmgVVFo/Tk0XZ55BhLI/AAAAAAAAB5M/fswDvst6W44/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25283%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">This is August. Normally at this time the streets of<span>&nbsp; </span><st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> are comparatively quiet as most residents are on their annual vacations. Seats on the Metro are obtainable as are tables in the restaurants. This week is different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I walked along Gran Via to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Callao</st1:place></st1:city> where I was meeting a friend. Both of us are fans of Harry Potter and we had arranged to see the ultimate film or the eponymous young wizard. The newly rebuilt Plaza Callao that now boasts an acre of rather boring flat grey stone (criticised in the local press, together with the other newly refurbished plazas of Sol and Isabel II, as “ugly deserts of granite” with little character,) was also crowded with the young pilgrims. Each waved their countries flag around which they grouped. One group of young Filipino boys held a sign optimistically offering “Free hugs and kisses”, another group chanted in time to a noisy vuvuzela. Last year’s world cup in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">South Africa</st1:place></st1:country-region> has a lot to answer for! Another burger joint, Pans and Co and Starbucks next door were packed to the doors. Wherever you looked there were smiles. There was laughter from all directions and in all accents. (Yes, laughter has an accent!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WpbRZ7SNq_o/Tk0XmbbrVLI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/ToUc9zbSSb4/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WpbRZ7SNq_o/Tk0XmbbrVLI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/ToUc9zbSSb4/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25286%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And it was infectious. It was impossible not to smile. As I said to my friend when she arrived, “There’s are lots of people who have no idea where they are going, but are singing as they go there”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It has been billed as a “party” for Catholic youth. Unfortunately, every party has its “party-poopers” or “</span><span>aguafiestas</span><span lang="EN-GB">” as they say here. They are saying that it is wrong for <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> to host such a party at a time when more than twenty percent of the population is out of work. They are claiming that while the government has cut funding for medicine and education the state should not be spending an estimated sixty million euros on just a few days of celebration. Knowing quite a lot of teachers who have felt first hand the effects of the cuts in the education budget it is difficult not to sympathise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HssXJ63-9Qw/Tk0XxTJjnUI/AAAAAAAAB5U/AZw-Jzpegjw/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252821%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HssXJ63-9Qw/Tk0XxTJjnUI/AAAAAAAAB5U/AZw-Jzpegjw/s320/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252821%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Government cut 40 million euros from the education budget, yet it is claimed they are spending 50 million on the pope's visit. AMAL thinks the church should pick up the tab.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Leading the protests against this event has been the Asociación Madrileña de Ateos y Librepensadores, (The Madrid Association of Atheists and Free-thinkers), AMAL. They have been leading a campaign against the use of public funds from taxation being spent for this purpose. There are many who agree with them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The political sweep though my friends here swings from right(ish), - the days of far right wing in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> are still active in many people’s memories, - to quite left. I know people who attend mass every week, though those who go for “special occasions” to those who hate any form of Church intervention in affairs of state. As an atheist brought up non-conformist protestant I tend to agree with the latter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Yet is was hard last night not to join in the obvious joys of the faithful who today will meet their leader. (The TV now shows me that the pope has now arrived in the centre of town. He zoomed from the airport to the centre in the pope-mobile, which travelled at a quite alarming rate. He shot through my barrio so fast that the faithful who had been waiting on the roadside for hours would have missed his passing if they had blinked!) Interviews with people in the waiting crowds displayed an excitement not seen since the victorious Spanish football team returned from the World Cup along the same route.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But last night AMAL thought it was a good time to make their voices heard. They had been organising the protest over several days on Facebook and more than six thousand had declared their intention to attend. The march would begin in the plaza Tirso de Molina and terminate in Sol. This was bad news for my friend and I. Our cinema tickets were for the Cine Ideal, one of the cinemas that shows movies in VO, or original language, and was on the marchers’ route. So I got a close up view of the parade and heard the shouts of the protesters. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">They made me angry!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LSHCPsEF5ZU/Tk0YXyaRYfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/rwqqhZtqMM8/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LSHCPsEF5ZU/Tk0YXyaRYfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/rwqqhZtqMM8/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252812%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It was meant to be a protest again what they see as a misuse of public money and I am sure that is what the organisers intended. Yet among those who attended the protest were members of the 15M, Democracia, ya! Movement and suddenly the demonstration ceased to be a legitimate protest of taxpayers into a revolt against the church and the pope. Indeed this morning the newspapers are headlining it as an “Antipope protest”, which it was never meant to be. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Within the march were those who held banners proclaiming the moderate atheist view that “you don’t have to believe in a god to be good” and so on, and those who criticised the Catholic Church’s attitude towards contraception, gays and abortion. Unfortunately there were also those who chanted insults, including a ribald rhyme claiming the Virgin Mary to have been a lesbian. This was designed to provoke and insult those who held different opinions. I hope the organisers were ashamed. I hope they point out to their “supporters” that invective and insults can never replace intelligent debate. And it has to be said that today their Facebook page laments the idiocy of some of the marchers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ4Sa80K1qw/Tk0YhTc2EsI/AAAAAAAAB5c/_EgqeTWkHR4/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252810%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ4Sa80K1qw/Tk0YhTc2EsI/AAAAAAAAB5c/_EgqeTWkHR4/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252810%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It has to said that it is reported the government is also a little concerned about what the pope might say during his visit. <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region>’s liberal views on gay marriage, abortion and with a contraceptive machine on nearly every street corner and in every metro station has drawn criticism from the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Vatican</st1:place></st1:country-region> in the past. They are hoping he keeps his orations on matters of youth and away from politics.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Voltaire did not say “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend your right to impose your views on others”. That said though, I have met religious people who feel they do have that right. There’s a right that is wrong. It was probably the case that the “mal </span><span>educado</span><span lang="EN-GB">” in the march were a small minority. The police made a few arrests and there were a few wounded in scuffles. It is also worth a mention that earlier this week a Mexican Catholic youth was arrested by police for threatening to throw acid in the face of any protesting against the pope’s visit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Official declarations claim that most of the cost of this celebration will be borne from the fees paid by the celebrants, but there are reported to be fifteen thousand police on the streets of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> this week. The use of government property for the celebrations does not come cost free and neither do the conversion of Cibeles and Recoletas into a grand outdoor cathedral. All attendees have been given an eighty percent reduction on public transport while those of us who live here are now suffering a fifty percent increase on the cost of a single ticket. The church and state claimed that donations from Spanish companies would also ameliorate the cost, but played down the fact that those companies would be getting an 80% tax break on those contributions. So, that’s more money the state won’t get. One of what I consider to be one of AMAL’s legitimate demands is that the Catholic Church pick up the tab for everything. After all, it is their party!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GKVk98NY1dM/Tk0Y6NSdLwI/AAAAAAAAB5k/mRZTLGVCMSs/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GKVk98NY1dM/Tk0Y6NSdLwI/AAAAAAAAB5k/mRZTLGVCMSs/s400/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But theses facts and the protests of the “antipapistas” seem to have no effect whatever on the gathered, celebrating catholic youth in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> last night. They continued to sing and dance. The film finished just before midnight. As my friend and I walked through the plaza major en route to Opera metro (Sol station having been closed yet again!) the groups of pilgrims continued to sing from their seats on the terrace cafés and a fairly large group in the centre danced the Macarena - loudly. Scenes on TV right now of the crowds patiently awaiting the pope show lots of high spirits and enjoyment of their life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In fact TV is showing little else right now. The protesters had their fifteen seconds of fame on the news broadcasts, but its all about the pope. I hope the celebrants will leave for their home countries with good memories of their time in this wonderful town. Judging by the joy on the faces of one and a half million young people, life is meant to be enjoyed and <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is a great place to enjoy it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6I7enrHWHc/Tk0ZFsE4QHI/AAAAAAAAB5o/_E456MLIpts/s1600/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6I7enrHWHc/Tk0ZFsE4QHI/AAAAAAAAB5o/_E456MLIpts/s320/Madrid_Youth+Day+2011+%252819%2529.JPG" width="271" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We can cry “Bah Humbug” when they’ve all gone home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-71425898676580473972011-08-08T18:49:00.000+02:002011-08-08T18:49:27.823+02:00How to steal a wife.<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.By Richard Morley.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tr5POCO6coc/TkATP2JSmYI/AAAAAAAAB5A/S_WzBkfVMiw/s1600/romeo-and-juliet-coloring-page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tr5POCO6coc/TkATP2JSmYI/AAAAAAAAB5A/S_WzBkfVMiw/s320/romeo-and-juliet-coloring-page.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I have been researching the reconquista of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>. That period when the Catholic Spanish rose up against their Muslim masters and took their country back. In one particular town, Colmanar de Oreja, in the south of the </span><span>Comunidad</span><span lang="EN-GB"> of Madrid, the successful siege by the forces of Alfonso VII sent the Muslim residents packing and then required a repopulation of the town by new people. But how do you encourage them to come?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, one way is to grant sanctuary and immunity from prosecution to every murderer or thief who was on the run. You have to remember that medieval laws were almost excessively severe. Your crime could be minor by today’s standards, but the penalty would be harsh. Even if your crime was murder, it could just be that you were the survivor of a fight in which your opponent was unlucky enough to die. But there was no mitigation. If you wanted to live, you had to flee. Luckily there were places you could flee to.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You have to remember too that Medieval Sanctuary law was widespread in most of <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place> and seen as a way to ameliorate not just those harsh legal responses to minor offenses, but also used by rulers to grant protection to those who did their dirty work for them. One way to lessen the expense of keeping an army was to allow it to benefit from the spoils of war, the taking of which could be considered a crime.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of these crimes was abduction of another person, or kidnap. And it might be that you kidnapped a female. But did you commit a crime? Remember that women were regarded as property. A wealthy family would see their daughters as assets that could be traded for alliances, either political or in business. Conquering armies would see women as the spoils of war. And in some cases some young love struck Romero would spot the beautiful Julia across a market square and want to make her his own, and it’s possible the desire would be reciprocated, but not possible due to lack of wealth or status on the part of Romero.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the couple chose to run away together the law made the man a kidnapper and a criminal, even though his stolen bride had colluded in the crime.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, criminals from one place could make desirable citizens in another, especially when they arrived with a woman in a town where females were in short supply. It meant that the new arrival would not compete with the men already there for the existing women. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, in the new town they might not be seen as criminals at all. They might have been technically guilty of kidnap in the town the woman came from, but if she came willingly in the event that the supposed “abduction” was in fact an elopement and while her parents might be screaming “kidnap” and the abductor a criminal in their eyes, in the new town he would be seen as a welcome and able citizen.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, in 1133 Alfonso VII granted the “Abduction Privilege” to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Guadalajara</st1:place></st1:city>. A fugitive who sought sanctuary with an abducted woman was protected by a royal fine of 500 sueldos on his accusers. The crown could hunt down murderers, thieves and traitors, but abductors were hidden away from pursuers. Then, in 1139, Alfonso also allowed similar laws in Oreja, now known as Colmanar de Oreja, where a “colonist-abductor” could bring into the town any willing and marriageable woman, so long as she was not already married, a relation or was being brought by force.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But in fact this had been going on for years. In 986 Count Ramon Borel of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Catalonia</st1:place></st1:state> banned incoming abductors, but only those who came with women who were already married or betrothed to another. A girl free of obligations was therefore fair game.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And in 1076 Alfonso VI granted protection to the colonisers of Sepúlvada when they brought in a “woman, girl, or other stolen goods”.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Towns close to the border with <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Aragon</st1:place></st1:country-region> admitted killers, thieves and explicitly those importing women. In 1131 the town of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Calatayuz</st1:place></st1:city> granted asylum to known murderers and men bringing in abducted women. The townspeople would then vote as to whether to allow their pursuers admittance. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">In some places this “abduction” was not even what it purported to be. In <st1:place w:st="on">Lower Navarra</st1:place> it was said that a noble could make any girl a noblewoman by undertaking a ritual of abduction. He only had to carry her nine steps away from her home, provided she was dressed in a chemise and her hair was let down. She then became an </span><span>infanzona</span><span lang="EN-GB"> forever. It could be claimed that our modern custom of carrying a new bride across the threshold of the couple’s new home is no more than an extension of this “rite”. And surely her “deshabile” would make it pretty clear she was a willing party to the abduction.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In some of the newly established communities a daring young abductor would be seen as just the sort of man they needed. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And how could it be wrong when the church allowed it. The Decretum Gratiani, a code of canon law decreed by the Roman Church in 1240 defended the validity of the marriage even though no parental consent had been given. Incidentally, this code lasted until<span>&nbsp; </span>1918 although legal statutes had banned the practise of “Bridal Theft” (I love that phrase!) centuries before.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Communities, ironically even those who had been founded by abductors, sought remedies to stop the practise. One of the ways this was done was by the enforcement of arranged marriages where all parties consented to the union. But still kidnappers had to be dissuaded with the introduction of very severe penalties including large fines, exile and death. The death being carried out by the avenging family.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At Alba de Tormes the penalties were worst when the daughter of a property owning citizen was abducted. Apparently this distinction was made in cases of rape as well. And as virgin daughters were the main target, Castilian custom tended to disregard widows and the marriage of a widow against her family’s wishes was considered less offensive. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where an abducted bride was in fact a runaway bride, in that she had colluded with her abductor, she was now considered a party to the crime and would be punished. In <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cuenca</st1:place></st1:city> disinheritance and exile were the normal penalties for the woman. <span>&nbsp;</span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cuenca</st1:place></st1:city> also made provision for the abducted women already being someone’s wife. In which case the abductor, if caught, could expect to be burnt at the stake and all his possessions confiscated. This punishment was also exacted on the woman when she colluded with her kidnapper.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But now the law of the land came into conflict with the church. If vows had been exchanged and the marriage consummated the church decreed the union was legal. To the State, though, it was a crime and several kings sought to increase revenues by imposing severe fines on the perpetrators. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But you had to catch them before you could punish them. If a couple had slipped away unnoticed and travelled far, they could live happily ever after without fear of punishment. However, any property the man possessed in the town would be confiscated and the family were saved the cost of a dowry, which was recompense of a sort and perhaps a blessing for the father of the bride, who would remain that much richer.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The right of<span>&nbsp; </span>“Abductors Privilege” in towns like Guaralajara and Colmanar de Oveja did much to encourage the settlement in new or depleted town taken from the Moors after the reconquista and probably did much to mix the gene pool of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I imagine that many Spanish Romeros and Julias did live happily ever after.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I doubt us single males could get away with it now!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-4994429612785705072011-07-30T19:23:00.000+02:002011-07-30T19:23:13.453+02:00I’m learning Spanish, not trying to offend you. Honest!<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>By Richard Morley</b></i>.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think it was Oscar Wilde who said, “Experience is the name we give to our mistakes”. Experience can be a good teacher, unless you are a politician, but that’s another story! I also think there’s some truth in saying the greater the mistake, the greater the learning possibility.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually, I would like to rephrase that: The greater the embarrassment potential within the mistake, the chances are much higher that the learner won’t ever repeat that mistake. Again with the caveat that this does not necessarily apply to politicians!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And what greater source of potential embarrassment could there be than that of attempting to communicate in another language.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">In another <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/accent-positive.html">post </a>&nbsp;I wrote a long time ago&nbsp;</span>I high-lighted the danger of accent blindness when reading Spanish by confusing “Inglés” with “Ingles”. That the difference was explained to me before I committed the blunder publicly was a close shave indeed!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that was a couple of years back. I have plenty of opportunities to disgrace myself linguistically since then.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How well I remember the time, when enjoying a coffee with a sweet lady in a crowded café, I declared quite loudly that a certain Spanish politician needed a penis. I meant to say he needed support. The word I needed was “Apoyo”, but I mispronounced and said something else entirely. Aforementioned sweet lady quickly&nbsp;amended&nbsp;my pronunciation.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And what confused mental dyslexia had me pointing out to the same sweet lady, while we were walking across a sunlit meadow, all the “testicles” running about in the field. Rabbits in Spanish are “conejos”. Bilingual anagrams are a minefield when you learn new vocabulary from reading and not from listening.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am convinced the Spanish have so designed their language to get maximum humorous entertainment from us guiris as we stumble through their lexicon. I mean, what could be more innocent than wanting to lend a hand in the kitchen by declaring that you will sweep up the mess. The verb in question is “cepillar” (the double “ll” is pronounced like the y in yacht or young) – to brush, to sweep and in woodwork, to plane. If you check it on Wordrefernce.com those definitions are there plus the act of finishing something, cleaning the teeth, and, surprisingly, killing someone. It’s only at the bottom of the list you find, “<span class="i"><i>vulg<span style="color: #003399;">.</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="color: #003399;">&nbsp;</span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Tener relaciones sexuales con alguien.” Yes, to have sex. Now tell me they haven’t done this on purpose!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">Actually, I report that last with gleeful </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">schadenfreude</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">. Last week I was with a group of Spanish schoolteachers and one, as part of a presentation, gave us a talk on first aid and in particular, Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation; the method of using mouth to mouth breathing and chest compression to resuscitate a drowned or unconscious person or “CPR”. The way she pronounced those three letters had the Spanish members of her audience convulsed with lascivious laughter. These paragons of educational virtue took great delight in explaining the fun found in their colleague’s slight mispronunciation, particularly while demonstrating on a muscular, and quite handsome young man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a similar note, it is perhaps not a good idea to tell a lady you have only just met that you want to run away with her. The list of meanings in Wordreference for<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Correr” is quite extensive!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">Now I know that Spanish ladies tend to speak their mind. “</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: ES;">Eufemismo</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">” exists as<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>almost the same word as “euphemism” in English, but it doesn’t seem to exist in practice. Spanish ladies do not call a spade a wooden handled digging device. I consider myself a man of the world. It takes a lot to shock me. But I was surprised when my female friends spoke about “making their bikini” or “working on their bikini”. All sorts of inappropriate visions came into my head. I am not the only one. When mentioning this to a newly arrived lady teacher from the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>, she too assumed waxing, shaving and unwanted hair was involved, when in fact it means no more than losing a bit of winter weight to look good in their swim wear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has got to the stage now that I am suspicious of new words – or new uses of old ones. If I come across a new idiom or hear a familiar word used in an unusual context my vulgarity antenna goes up. Not that it should worry me. See above, man of the world etc etc, but I do have some, shall we say, “old-fashioned” acquaintances who might be either shocked at the word / idiom, or embarrassed to explain it to me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These words come from surprising sources. I have been working my way through the fictional autobiographical stories of eight year old Manolito Gafotas, who lives in Carabanchel (alto), a district of southwest <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--MGpr8bh34U/TjQ7y6nxFPI/AAAAAAAAB4c/r93NwoIw1K4/s1600/libroManolitoGafotas_grande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--MGpr8bh34U/TjQ7y6nxFPI/AAAAAAAAB4c/r93NwoIw1K4/s320/libroManolitoGafotas_grande.jpg" width="232" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">The books were written by a Journalist, Elvira Lindo, in the nineties and quickly became a huge literary success, followed by a TV series, a couple of feature films and awards for Children’s literature. But in the books, when Manolito wishes to express his frustration he frequently uses the word “Joé”. My dictionary does not have this word. Neither does Wordreference. So I asked, because she was there, a lady of “a certain age” to tell me what it meant. She flustered and was a little embarrassed to explain that it was the kids’ version of “Joder”, the Spanish “F” word, used in much the same way that “Miércoles” replaces “</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: ES;">Mierda</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">” in children’s speech – at least when adults are listening.&nbsp;</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">These stories have very quickly become classics of Spanish Children’s literature. I am sure that good parents the Spanish speaking world over buy these books for their children, or read the stories at bedtime. I hope they are ready to explain to their little darlings the meaning of some of the words. But I have struck this particular lady off my list of “Spanish explainers”. I would not wish to embarrass her again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">I could, of course, consult my copy of “<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Harraps-Pardon-Spanish-Pocket-Dictionary/dp/0245607854/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1">Pardon my Spanish</a>”,&nbsp;</span></span>which is a complete guide to the less polite words of the Spanish lexicon and in which the words are graded from “Able to use in front of Granny” to “ONLY EVER use with close friends!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6l-6gFq6HTU/TjQ7eQlxqsI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/T1TZ4vikY2g/s1600/6vlhmq-640x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6l-6gFq6HTU/TjQ7eQlxqsI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/T1TZ4vikY2g/s320/6vlhmq-640x500.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course there less innocuous words to confuse. I remember a Dutch friends who asked an optician to check her “eights” (ochos) instead of her “eyes” (ojos). I recently told a dentist I had lost an “embalse” (dam) instead of an “empaste” (filling). The look of perplexity on his face was a sight to behold. Trying to be more clever than I actually am I thought baby pigeons ( little “palomas”) were a “palomitas”, which is really “popcorn”.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it’s the big bloopers that stay in the mind. The ones with such embarrassing consequences you will never forget them.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Experience might be a hard teacher, but it’s a good one.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a PS, but it’s x-rated, so if you are of a nervous disposition do not read any further.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At one of the English Villages I attend, a rather straight-laced American lady had bitten the inside of her cheek while eating and this had raised a painful blister. Finding out, illegally, from one of the students that the word for blister is “empolla” (but not quite hearing it correctly) she visited a pharmacy and explained she had “a polla” in her mouth, while jabbing a finger in and out of her open mouth to demonstrate. The student nearly collapsed in laughter, particularly when retelling the tale later. “Polla” (pronounced poy-ya) is slang for penis. The student reported the pharmacists was quite surprised!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You continued reading, didn’t you. I told you not to!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What embarrassing mistakes have you made??&nbsp;</span></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-21382892640211062992011-07-13T15:26:00.002+02:002011-07-13T15:31:28.047+02:00Spain Rocks<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><b><i>By Richard Morley</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ei6L-CL72AI/Th2N2UZFjMI/AAAAAAAAB3E/DIef8142BpA/s1600/The+snow-capped+mountains+of+the+Sierra+de+Gredos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ei6L-CL72AI/Th2N2UZFjMI/AAAAAAAAB3E/DIef8142BpA/s640/The+snow-capped+mountains+of+the+Sierra+de+Gredos.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 10pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The snow capped peaks of the Gredos mountains. Part of the "Sistema Central" of Spain's Mountains.</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 10pt;">I wrote recently in my post about the source of the </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Manzanares</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> river that today’s tranquil landscape had been, a long, long time ago, a rather turbulent place. That while today the pink, or Rose Granite lends a colourful hue to the peaceful slopes of the Yelmo, at the time of its formation it was a place of volcanoes and heaving rivers of lava. It’s a nice place today because it’s been a gneiss place for ages. (Geological joke! – Look it up.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NoYjwwuCGfQ/Th2cU9k94rI/AAAAAAAAB4E/2HKCRn1w4FQ/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252832%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NoYjwwuCGfQ/Th2cU9k94rI/AAAAAAAAB4E/2HKCRn1w4FQ/s320/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252832%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">A (very) close up picture of the rose granite through which the young Manzanares runs.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The Manzanares’ source lies in the Sierra de Guadarrama, part of the central system of mountains that stretches from Portugal to just north of Madrid, incorporating the sierras of Gredos, Avilla,&nbsp; and Guadarrama (among several others) and delineates the divide between northern Spain and the south. In geological terms they are quite young mountains. A famous mountaineer, when asked why he wanted to climb a mountain said, “Because it is there”. Me, I want to know why.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l61IHgpoXgU/Th2Oa6Egq9I/AAAAAAAAB3I/c53VUOqXnHE/s1600/Sistema_Central.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l61IHgpoXgU/Th2Oa6Egq9I/AAAAAAAAB3I/c53VUOqXnHE/s320/Sistema_Central.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">&nbsp;The Iberian "Sistema Central" mountains running more or less West-East until terminating at the perpendicular Iberian system, formed 40 million years earlier when Spain faced in another direction.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Today we tend to think of dramatic geological events in terms of unpronounceable Icelandic volcanoes and havoc inducing tsunamis. That’s because they happen quickly; over days, or even hours. Most geological events happen much, much slower. For us, and the world in general, that’s a good thing. For <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>, it has been a blessing. The country that we know and love has taken a very long time to reach it’s present state. It has travelled – and will continue to do so. It has been subject to amazing forces – and still is. Geology has shaped the world and shaped us. We respond to our surroundings. Geologically, the country went it’s own way for eons. Historically, it did the same. Perhaps this says something about the tenacious spirit of the Spanish, of their, sometimes, fiery “carácter” , but also their more often seen tranquil nature. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JiNBTMeB6vI/Th2PQZQcYdI/AAAAAAAAB3M/lWPxvAj_jaU/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252839%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JiNBTMeB6vI/Th2PQZQcYdI/AAAAAAAAB3M/lWPxvAj_jaU/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252839%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Weathered peaks of the Pedriza in the Guadarrama mountains.</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Let’s see the events unfold. (But in a really, really simplified form. I don’t want comments telling me that I have forgotten such and such an event. As an old tee-shirt of mine once said, “Geophysicists do it deeper!”, but here I am just scratching the surface.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Cast your minds back to, oh, let’s say, 600 million years ago. We will have to speculate a bit. I’ve attempted to do the research, but, as I have discovered in a long career in one particular branch of earth studies, if there is one thing that geologists can’t agree on – it’s EVERYTHING! So, there are competing theories. Quite a few of them have had to be formulated relatively recently. After all, it’s just exactly one hundred years since <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Wegener">Alfred Wegener</a>, &nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">noticing how the coastlines on opposite sides of the <st1:place w:st="on">Atlantic</st1:place> fitted together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, published the first paper on how the world’s landmasses seemed to drift across the Earth’s surface. Perhaps because he was an astronomer and meteorologist and not a geologist many did not take his ideas seriously. Plus, there were competing theories (the discredited “expanding Earth”) and the fact that there seemed to be no driving mechanism behind the continental movements. They were still arguing about it in the early seventies when I was a student.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But it seems to go a bit like this. Prior to 600 million years ago the World’s landmasses had been forming and reforming into groups until on almost opposite sides of the globe two super continents, one called Gondwana and the other Laurasia, had come into being. Slowly they drifted together and at about 600 million years ago they met and formed the giant extra-super continent, Pangea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Pangea looked like a letter C, or a very distorted 8. A bit like a knobbly Pac man figure facing right, it’s mouth agape. But think of the 8, bent into a C shape. Where the two halves of the 8 meet, or perhaps where Pac man’s tonsils could be, were a few independent landmasses which had been crushed together and bridged the gap between the two continents. They are known as the Avalonian, the Amorican, and the Iberian plates. You might like to bear in mind the “Iberian” plate. It’s sort of important in this article!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">To the east, ie, within the Pac man’s gaping jaw, lay the Tethys sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Then several things happened. Firstly, the pressure of Gondwana pushing up into Laurasia compressed bits of the northern continent and pushed them upwards, forming mountains. Today, these mountains are so eroded it’s not easy, except by using reflective seismic techniques, (a bit like sonar on land) to find the evidence, but some can be found in Spain’s north west, on its corner with Portugal, in south east Galicia.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">As the southern continent pushed against Laurasia, it subducted, meaning it slid underneath. This, as today can be seen around the Pacific’s rim, leads to volcanic activity. This can be seen in ancient volcanoes found in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s northeast, but in the centre, where the Iberian plate was thin and weak, a great intrusion of magmatic rock oozed to swell into a huge globule of granite. It is as if the rivers of fire from hell rose to the surface and, in fact, we call that action “Plutonism”, named for Pluto, the ancient Roman god of the underworld. That’s what I was gazing at in the last post. But 600 million years ago it didn’t break the surface, so at the time there was little evidence of what was going on below. On the Avalonian plate, however, there was huge amounts of violent volcanic activity, which had already been going on for 100 million years and would continue for another 100 million. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Moving forward in time this volcanic activity would lead to a splitting of the left hand side of Pangea. (Incidentally, I write of left and right rather than east or west, north or south, because even though geologists speak of “Laurasia”, “Amorica”, even “Euro-America”, those land masses were nowhere near their present geographical locations – and after which they are named. (Laurasia became, after the splitting off of north America, <st1:place w:st="on">Eurasia</st1:place>.) All of what I am writing happened when these land masses where deep in the southern ocean. <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> at that time was thought to be around 55º south of the equator and probably not in its current orientation relative to north and south. Events are hard to construct from the historical carousel of continental drift. But not impossible.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But I digressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The splitting off of the left hand side of Gondwana led to the formation of <st1:place w:st="on">South America</st1:place>. Parts of Avalonia are found in the British Isles south of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region> and continue through northern <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>. Other parts are found in eastern <st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region>, from where it took its name from the Avalonian peninsular in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Newfoundland</st1:place></st1:state>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VNfqV6zEUXM/Th2P0yepCpI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/wDZkd1ghMoY/s1600/Pangea+position+of+Spain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VNfqV6zEUXM/Th2P0yepCpI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/wDZkd1ghMoY/s400/Pangea+position+of+Spain.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">For the next 250 million years the great continent drifted northwards. 450 million years ago the Tethys sea began to close. So, as Pac man’s mouth slowly closed, the land mass of Laurasia turned clockwise. In the middle of this upheaval the two plates of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region> and Amorica thrust together. Amorica is the land mass where today you find <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region>, and you will think that <st1:country-region w:st="on">Iberia</st1:country-region> and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place>, were, from that moment on, like co-joined twins tumbling around in the centre of global activity. But wait, there’s a twist, very literally, to their tale. But that’s for later. Right now, well 450 million years ago, extensive mountains were being built by the squeezing of the plates. The remains of this mountain building can be found today in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Portugal</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Galicia</st1:country-region> and <st1:place w:st="on">Northern France</st1:place>. (Remember that little fact!)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Meanwhile <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region> and Amorica were passing though tropical regions. During this time they became great jungles of vegetation which died and their remains laid down in great belts of carboniferous strata. That’s coal to you and me. The coal is found in seams between layers of limestone and sandstone showing that the landmasses were alternately above sea-level (and covered in trees) and below sea-level, where oozing sand from eroding land and the shells of sea creatures created intervening limestone and sandstone strata. The bodies of those sea creatures, the soft parts, decomposed to give us oil. The great explosion for this was after the carboniferous, mainly during the Triassic and Jurrasic periods. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KB6QdWBDKYk/Th2VjMpdBSI/AAAAAAAAB30/zNxyf7JWcO0/s1600/Strata+in+the+Cordillera+Iberica+near+Soria..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KB6QdWBDKYk/Th2VjMpdBSI/AAAAAAAAB30/zNxyf7JWcO0/s400/Strata+in+the+Cordillera+Iberica+near+Soria..JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Limestone strata found in the Cordillera Iberica near Soria in northeast Spain.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">It was in the Jurrasic, around 180 million years ago, that Pangea began to split up. The Tethys sea was closing rapidly. The Indian plate was sliding across to bump into <st1:place w:st="on">asia</st1:place>. The Antarctic plate, with <st1:country-region w:st="on">Australia</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New Zealand</st1:place></st1:country-region> still attached headed southward. They didn’t have far to go! The major landmasses were still travelling northwards. Laurasia, soon to become Eurasia with the loss of <st1:place w:st="on">North America</st1:place>, was revolving clockwise. What was left of Gondwana, basically Africa, was continuing to push north and the two joined landmasses of Armorica and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region> were rolled anti-clockwise and to the left between them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ug1gg88Ti4/Th2RggNXOMI/AAAAAAAAB3g/CNgm8684s6A/s1600/World+Tectonic+Plate+map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ug1gg88Ti4/Th2RggNXOMI/AAAAAAAAB3g/CNgm8684s6A/s320/World+Tectonic+Plate+map.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The theory of much of what I have written is pretty common knowledge these days. The Discovery channel and others present documentaries about how these giant plates; the Pacific Plate, the African Plate and so on, are rolling around the earth. These giant plates are, in fact, “cratons”, meaning they are composed of lots of smaller plates that seem to have permanently joined together; the completed parts of a jigsaw puzzle, if you like. It is where the constituent plates rub against each other that we get seismic activity like earthquakes and volcanoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcZ-swiHuBA/Th2Qcz6FsCI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/lmB8G8CweJQ/s1600/biscay+opening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcZ-swiHuBA/Th2Qcz6FsCI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/lmB8G8CweJQ/s320/biscay+opening.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Iberia swivels under France to open up the Bay of Biscay.</i></b></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">For many millions of&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">years the Amorica-Iberian landmass had formed a bridge between Northern Laurasia and <st1:place w:st="on">Southern Gondwana</st1:place>. About 120 years ago they made their choice and Amorica, with its twin, became a craton of <st1:place w:st="on">Eurasia</st1:place>. But the forces that had split North America away, first a volcanic rift then the spread of the Atlantic ocean, were pulling on <st1:country-region w:st="on">Iberia</st1:country-region> and the clockwise motion of <st1:place w:st="on">Eurasia</st1:place> was pulling on Amorica. Eventually they swung apart, but hinged at their southern extremity. This is the, literal, twist in the tail. As Amorica moved north and clockwise, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region> twisted anticlockwise under it. The resulting gap opened to become the Bay of Biscay and about 65 million years ago, when the Iberian swing terminated by crashing into&nbsp; southern <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region>, the beginnings of the <st1:place w:st="on">Pyrenees</st1:place> were formed.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ypKyo7J59b0/Th2a9ijnAWI/AAAAAAAAB4A/l72c2N7uHtI/s1600/Pyrenees_composite_NASA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="109" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ypKyo7J59b0/Th2a9ijnAWI/AAAAAAAAB4A/l72c2N7uHtI/s320/Pyrenees_composite_NASA.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">NASA photograph of the Pyrenees. Notice the compression folds as Iberia was pushed into Armorica.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dcqR21uiPrc/Th2QLtN_4rI/AAAAAAAAB3U/HTCH8iGbVHg/s1600/Geo+map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dcqR21uiPrc/Th2QLtN_4rI/AAAAAAAAB3U/HTCH8iGbVHg/s320/Geo+map.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">A glance at the geological map above shows the continuation of the north-south oriented western Iberian mountains continuing oriented east-west in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><st1:state w:st="on">Brittany</st1:state></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> in northern </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">. Geologists have used paleomagnetism, a technique that indicates the original</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">&nbsp; </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">magnetic orientation of rocks when they were formed. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I used to think the similarity between those two parts of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> was their love of cider, but it obviously goes much deeper – and further back – than that!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><st1:place w:st="on"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Europe</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> basically had now taken the shape we are familiar with. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But things did not stop there. Africa, divested of south America, <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region>, Antarctica, continued, and continues, to move north, still pushing into <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>. &nbsp;With Europe now more or less in its current position this northern movement of <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> exerted such pressure that ridges of mountains were formed all over the place. The mechanism is known as the “Alpine Orogeny” (mountain building) and, obviously, the European Alps are its main manifestation, but it is responsible for the rolling south downs of <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region>, the Apennines in&nbsp; <st1:country-region w:st="on">Italy</st1:country-region> and the Atlas mountains in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Algeria</st1:country-region> and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Tunisia</st1:country-region></st1:place>. In <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region> this action is responsible for the Cantabrian mountains, including the Picos de Europa in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Asturias</st1:country-region> and the <st1:place w:st="on">Sierra Nevada</st1:place> in Andalucía. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8v9Xn85Jz0w/Th2QpseXg3I/AAAAAAAAB3c/B0OSyiHPg6A/s1600/Spanish+Geo+Map+with+strike.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8v9Xn85Jz0w/Th2QpseXg3I/AAAAAAAAB3c/B0OSyiHPg6A/s320/Spanish+Geo+Map+with+strike.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The black lines represent the fold lines, showing how Iberia was squeezed while the plate rotated in its travels.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Squeezed at both ends the centre of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> buckled like a sheet of paper. Mountain ranges rose, then collapsed. There is evidence that much of this time was spent below sea-level, with the peaks of the ranges existing as island chains. Signs of this are shown in layers of sedimentary rock around the slopes of the </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Guadarrama</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> chain in the central system, but not at their summits. And the “Plate” of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region> is also a craton, made up of smaller plates. It is through such a gap between plates that the Granite mass of the Pedriza finally pushed its way to the surface – and beyond – around 25 million years ago – hundreds of millions of years after it originally formed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2ol_lMkJ0g/Th2VQMTxRhI/AAAAAAAAB3w/S5z29hPMmXA/s1600/Elevation+model+if+the+central+System.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2ol_lMkJ0g/Th2VQMTxRhI/AAAAAAAAB3w/S5z29hPMmXA/s400/Elevation+model+if+the+central+System.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Elevation model of the central system and it's location on a general map of the Iberian peninsular. Notice how the land is raised higher to the north of the mountain range.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The Tethys sea had completely closed up at its eastern end by the land masses of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place> and the Arabian plate, what we now call the middle east. What’s left of that early sea is the <st1:place w:st="on">Mediterranean</st1:place>. By any standard the <st1:place w:st="on">Mediterranean</st1:place> is a substantial body of water. It has a surface area of 2.5 million square kilometres, an average depth of 1500 metres. It nearly 3000 kilometres from end to end and around a thousand wide, not including its sub seas; the Adriatic, the <st1:place w:st="on">Aegean</st1:place> and so on. It borders 21 countries and has many important sea routes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Imagine it empty. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Slightly less than 6 million years ago that happened. In an event named the “Messinian Salinity”, &nbsp;after the city of <st1:city w:st="on">Messina</st1:city> in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Sicily</st1:state></st1:place>. Africa’s relentless push actually closed the access of the Atlantic through the straits of <st1:place w:st="on">Gibraltar</st1:place>. Within a thousand years, apart from a few very salty lakes, some more than 3Km below present day sea levels, the <st1:place w:st="on">Mediterranean</st1:place> was dry. And it stayed that way for nearly 700,000 years! The fossil record shows evidence that animals used the dried up sea bed to migrate between the two continents.&nbsp; The mineral record, achieved by studying core drilling samples show typical shore line mineralogy from the sea bed hundreds of kilometres from modern day shorelines.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Almost as abruptly, in geological time-speak, as it had begun, 5.3 million years ago, due to yet more geological shifting, waters once again poured through the straits in an event called the Zanclean Flood. Zanclean is the name geologists give to that era which begins the modern geological age. Geological studies show that the straits of <st1:place w:st="on">Gibraltar</st1:place> were not the only water course open. There was one through <st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region> and another across the Betic Plain, around modern day <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Seville</st1:place></st1:city>. (Think Betis football club!)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ohacEnmFiLw/Th2SI_LitFI/AAAAAAAAB3k/Bc314lysKDI/s1600/Messinian_palaeogeography.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ohacEnmFiLw/Th2SI_LitFI/AAAAAAAAB3k/Bc314lysKDI/s320/Messinian_palaeogeography.JPG" width="270" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">&nbsp;These carried water of a much higher volume than is carried over <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Niagara Falls</st1:place></st1:city> today, and over a drop of several kilometres. Some scientists have proposed that the rate of flow was as much as a billion cubic metres per second and the Mediterranean refilled in as little as a few months to two years, with water levels rising ten metres a day. (To compare: <st1:place w:st="on">Niagara</st1:place>’s rate of flow is just under 2000 cubic metres per second.) However, Niagara’s waters come from the narrow confines of the Niagara river, the waters pouring into the Mediterranean had the force of the entire <st1:place w:st="on">Atlantic ocean</st1:place> behind them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Of course, that was not the end of Spanish seismic activity. Since written records began there has been a long history of seismic destruction. To mention the more famous – or infamous, there is the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Lisbon</st1:place></st1:city> earthquake of 1775. It struck in the morning of All Saints day, November the 1<sup>st</sup>. Its six and a half minute duration caused huge fissures to open up in the city centre and the sea water receded from the harbour revealing long forgotten wrecks.&nbsp; Forty five minutes later the water returned as a tsunami. Estimates tell of between 60,000 to 100,000 dead and the complete destruction of the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v96Hmahciw0/Th2STt4cLNI/AAAAAAAAB3o/ju0DqgBofBE/s1600/La+Alberca_result+of+Lisbon+earthquake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v96Hmahciw0/Th2STt4cLNI/AAAAAAAAB3o/ju0DqgBofBE/s320/La+Alberca_result+of+Lisbon+earthquake.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">These staples were used to repair a crack in the Church in La Alberca, Salamanca. The crack opened after shock waves from the Lisbon earthquake reached the town. La Alberca is some 330 km distant from Lisbon.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">In 1884 the town of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Arenas</st1:city></st1:place> de Rey was struck by an earthquake reckoned to be around 7 on the Richter Scale. Eight hundred people were killed and a further 1500 injured. 14,000 homes were destroyed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I take no joy from the fact that, following reading a few reports, I posted on my Facebook page on May 1<sup>st</sup> this year that <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> could expect a major earthquake “soon”. Twelve days later the town of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Lorca</st1:place></st1:city> was rocked by a severe earthquake that killed eight, injured many and rendered many families homeless.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Earthquakes, having been part of my life for so many years, means that I often get asked to speak about them. By coincidence, I was doing just that on the 12<sup>th</sup> of August 2007 when news came in that there had been a mild(ish) earthquake in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ciudad Real</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I shouldn’t have been surprised. I monitor the website of the Spanish geographic institute which reports on all quakes around the Iberian Peninsular. You can see it <a href="http://www.02.ign.es/ign/layout/sismo.do"><b>here</b></a>.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">That’s the downside of living on top of active geology. The advantages have been enormous. <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s mineral wealth is huge. The chemical reactions that occur within molten rock produce some useful stuff, like gold (4000kgs annually), silver (20,000kgs annually), feldspar (600,000 tons annually – that’s what all that granite gives you, as well as expensive kitchen tops) and of course historically Spain has been the world’s number one producer of Mercury from the mines at Almadén, which have produced 250,000 tons since Roman times.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The carboniferous era laid down coal in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Galicia</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Asturias</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Current reserves suggest there is 530 million tons waiting to be mined, but apparently the work there is difficult. The damned geology gets in the way! Erosion of rock over the millennia has led to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> being pretty much self-sufficient in sand and gravel, and the limestone deposits means that cement production is nearly all home grown. Years of shallow submergence, particularly during the Messinian salinity has given <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> untold quantities of gypsum. If you look at the map of the Messianian refilling above you will see the town of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sorbas</st1:place></st1:city> marked. The Mediterranean used to flood and then recede in this shoreline area, leaving behind each time more minerals, known as evaporates (for obvious reasons), including gypsum,&nbsp; that would later be mined. Used in building everywhere (plaster walls and ceilings, fairground plaster of Paris statuettes!) <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region> is <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>’s largest producer and the second largest in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">There’s iron, bauxite, and a long list of other minor stuff. Not much oil sadly. Some oil shale which kept the power stations of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region> <b><a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/08/electrifying-history.html">running for many years</a>&nbsp;</b> and a small field off the coast of </span><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Cantabridgia</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">And all that mountain building has given <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> super fertile slopes for grapes and olives, not to mention the skiing. After <st1:country-region w:st="on">Switzerland</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region> is the most mountainous country in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The continents will keep moving. Some think that <st1:country-region w:st="on">Iberia</st1:country-region> will become so squashed by Africa’s relentless push that it will be squeezed out into the <st1:place w:st="on">Atlantic</st1:place> like a geological zit. Perhaps it will become an island drifting who knows where. I read one report that suggested in 30 million years it will be somewhere near where <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iceland</st1:place></st1:country-region> is now. That’s a long time. You don’t have to pack the winter wear just yet, but enjoy the ride!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;"><i>Just as a&nbsp;serendipitous postscript I was amused to find a shop&nbsp;specialising in "Geological&nbsp;</i></span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Jewellery" (if there is such a thing!). Many long e</span></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;"><i>J</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">stablished businesses like to boast of their year of foundation. They are never going to beat this place.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">&nbsp;</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1RWMshMl2eQ/Th2YgeMzORI/AAAAAAAAB34/vYWQeh2SpkY/s1600/Geoda+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1RWMshMl2eQ/Th2YgeMzORI/AAAAAAAAB34/vYWQeh2SpkY/s400/Geoda+%25283%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Find decorative geodes, fossil fashion, minerals and meteorites 72, C/Hermosilla. (Near Goya metro.)</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TGHpT4Ro5Mo/Th2ZWA4l98I/AAAAAAAAB38/uwaOM4vtPLA/s1600/Geoda+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TGHpT4Ro5Mo/Th2ZWA4l98I/AAAAAAAAB38/uwaOM4vtPLA/s400/Geoda+%25285%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-55108248068612070862011-07-01T14:38:00.000+02:002011-07-01T14:38:15.667+02:00Madrid's River Manzanares. Where it begins....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or<b> Out of the frying pan and into the Fridge</b>,</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>By Richard Morley.</i></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXPvrseGfIU/Tg25mDe31-I/AAAAAAAAB2A/iV-SAh3TGvo/s1600/Madrid_Goya_Manzanares.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXPvrseGfIU/Tg25mDe31-I/AAAAAAAAB2A/iV-SAh3TGvo/s640/Madrid_Goya_Manzanares.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">When I wrote, a couple of posts ago, about Madrid’s new park running alongside the Manzanares River as it lazily glides though the city, I gave little thought to where that water came from. Like the crowds happily picnicking on the river banks in Goya’s famous painting above, I was quite happy to spend a cool evening beside the cool water.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Not many days later and <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> stopped having cool evenings. The numbers on the electronic temperature displays at the bus stops climbed way up into the thirties and refuse to come down. <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> is hot and sticky. The washing machine seems to be continuously on, removing the perspiration from several shirts a day, with the shower doing the same thing from my body. (I wish the guy on the Metro this morning had followed my example. It must have been yesterdays shirt. What a stink!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Last week one of my students injured himself playing football and limped into Monday’s lesson wincing as he walked. On Tuesday he called and cancelled, claiming his ankle needed the expertise of a doctor. And so, with a free evening ahead, a friend suggested an escape to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>’s northerly mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Now I like a walk in the hills, but I should have smelled a rat when she also suggested that I bring my swimming trunks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">By six that evening we had parked the car in an almost deserted car park in the Parque Regional de la Cuenca Alta del Manzanares, a nature reserve high in the Guadarrama mountains, recognised by UNESCO for its unique biological heritage and overlooked by La Pedriza, a huge granite uplift that dominates the region.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Geologically speaking, the Spanish word “<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cuenca</st1:place></st1:city>” means valley or bowl. Hence the town of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Cuenca</st1:city></st1:place>, which has nothing to do with this post, but where houses precariously hang from cliffs over-looking a deep valley. In the case of the Parque Regional de la Cuenca Alta <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">del</st1:state></st1:place> Manzanares, the “bowl” here signifies the confluence of several small streams into one main river valley which officially becomes the </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES;">Manzanares</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> river. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">On the drive up to the parque I took in the scene of boulder strewn slopes and thought that at sometime in the past something pretty serious had happened to the geology. Granite is an igneous rock, spewed out by volcanoes, and here was several cubic kilometres of it. In places the granite was fissures and the cracks were filled with black basalt, again of volcanic production, and then it had been uplifted and split asunder. The area would have been pretty uninhabitable at the time. Now the parque is a peaceful retreat from the heat and bustle of the city. A place of shady pines and scented bushes, riverside walks and picnic spots. And, my friend told me, of places to bathe in the cooling water.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VcQeHk9dnT0/Tg26dOC3bXI/AAAAAAAAB2E/QjB678A7x0c/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VcQeHk9dnT0/Tg26dOC3bXI/AAAAAAAAB2E/QjB678A7x0c/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">We left the car and strolled down the slope to the river. A handy sign informs you or where you are and what you can see. Beyond, a narrow wooden bridge, half submerged in the shadows of high tree – don’t ask me what they are, I am no botanist – led us across a narrow stream that tripped lightly over a few rocks and a fallen tree trunk.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KdoyteGU1hI/Tg26sb9HYNI/AAAAAAAAB2I/6TQ0YjewBxY/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KdoyteGU1hI/Tg26sb9HYNI/AAAAAAAAB2I/6TQ0YjewBxY/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%25284%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">A pretty little river I thought. But as we progressed up stream the rocks became boulders, the trickle turned into competing flows of white water. There was a water fall around every bend, and behind each fall a pool where people picnicked and splashed in the water.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ifJSe7OhGk/Tg267IKYXeI/AAAAAAAAB2M/JjbPV13Mazw/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ifJSe7OhGk/Tg267IKYXeI/AAAAAAAAB2M/JjbPV13Mazw/s320/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252812%2529.JPG" width="269" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0eExihq0RQ/Tg27Cx9sigI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/caMCcvqS1s0/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252813%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0eExihq0RQ/Tg27Cx9sigI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/caMCcvqS1s0/s320/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252813%2529.JPG" width="255" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">Now, if you were to dip a toe into the waters of the Manzanares as it meanders though the city you might remark that the water is “refreshing”. But when the water reaches the city it is well on its way along its eighty-three kilometre journey from its source to where it joins the Jarama river. Yes, the “mighty Manzanares” is but the tributary of another. On the first half of its journey it has had time to relax under the warming sun while it dawdled in the Santillana reservoir, near the town of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Manzanares de Real</st1:place></st1:city></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">, and then slowly tumble along its lazy route, past courses for golf and horse racing, into the city.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5zJcZ4ucwX8/Tg27jKc4BqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/_LBiJLNPjfc/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5zJcZ4ucwX8/Tg27jKc4BqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/_LBiJLNPjfc/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252817%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Cooling off in the cold, cold waters.</span></i></b></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Up near its source, in the Parque Regional de la Cuenca Alta <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">del</st1:state></st1:place> Manzanares, the water is not “refreshing” but BLOODY FREEZING. A few degrees cooler and those sparkling water trickles would be icicles. It is not many days since the tumbling water of the Manzanares headwaters was snow peacefully at rest on the peaks of the Guadarrama mountains. Then summer arrived and raising the temperature by not very much sent the snowmelt in a raging torrent over the granite boulders where it splashed and tumbled, eddied and pooled as it squeezed through the rocks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LW1q9eqrU1Q/Tg27wdFQw0I/AAAAAAAAB2Y/LDBiBFx3ADw/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LW1q9eqrU1Q/Tg27wdFQw0I/AAAAAAAAB2Y/LDBiBFx3ADw/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252819%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">A local resident basks in the evening sun.</span></i></b></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Still unaware of just how cold this snowmelt was, as my friend and I walked along the river banks under a burning sun from a cloudless blue sky, I looked on with envy as groups of family and friends paddled and splashed in the water. The car park we had used was not the only one. My friend stopped a passing dog walker and asked him how far up river did the picnics and pool parties continue. He laughed sardonically, remarking that on a Tuesday evening he had hopes of having the woods and banks to himself, but that he thought most of Madrid, us included I suppose, had come out to spoil his evening.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xq7Luqs4Yh4/Tg28HhutayI/AAAAAAAAB2c/gaFA_4-WArg/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252820%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xq7Luqs4Yh4/Tg28HhutayI/AAAAAAAAB2c/gaFA_4-WArg/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252820%2529.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Going ...... going ........ soon to be gone. A boulder balances precariously over the river bank.</span></i></b></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">My friend remarked how nice it was to be able to walk unencumbered with a back-pack through the shady woods. I, being a gentleman, had volunteered to carry the back pack and grunted that I was happy for her. A language difference means that irony sometimes gets lost in translation!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGNeJcytRKo/Tg28edewbMI/AAAAAAAAB2g/VflmixXpYuQ/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252825%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGNeJcytRKo/Tg28edewbMI/AAAAAAAAB2g/VflmixXpYuQ/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252825%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">The open and flattish woodland walk soon gave way to a more rugged and narrower path. There were cracks to be squeezed though, boulders requiring giant steps to surmount, sticky, snagging bushes to circumvent. All the while the laughter and joy of those who had already found their little pool of paradise rose up from the river.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JCSroeJzik0/Tg28oMmsGhI/AAAAAAAAB2k/rWwPpiXllEE/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252826%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JCSroeJzik0/Tg28oMmsGhI/AAAAAAAAB2k/rWwPpiXllEE/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252826%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Eventually we found an empty spot. A place of washed pink granite, known appropriately as Rose Granite, that had been eroded over millennia into broad, smooth beds which the acrobatic water washed with sporadic waves. We changed into our swimming stuff and dipped a toe in the water.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laNCuv4tLdA/Tg28yc_FowI/AAAAAAAAB2o/mOjXIEUn834/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252827%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laNCuv4tLdA/Tg28yc_FowI/AAAAAAAAB2o/mOjXIEUn834/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252827%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I shall not record the first word I used. Children might read this! Suffice it to say the coldness of the water came as a surprise. The second surprise was that the smoothness of the eroded rock allowed for no grip and I slid into the water. My friend was greatly amused by this, until the same thing happened to her and it took us a while to scramble back on to dry rock, which, compared to the water, was positively hot. Half on and half off the rocks we dangled our feet in the water. We had possibly walked four or five kilometres so the cold water gurgling though our toes was a welcome relief. Later, now with anticipation than ignorance, we let the water console more of our bodies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0EEDmvvasR8/Tg29DAMkEeI/AAAAAAAAB2s/A6rFGOamKiI/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252837%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0EEDmvvasR8/Tg29DAMkEeI/AAAAAAAAB2s/A6rFGOamKiI/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252837%2529.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;A<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> couple of degrees less .....and this would be an icicle!!!</span></i></b></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">From the backpack she produced tortilla and bread and something to drink. Like others in their own personal paradises along the river bank we let all thoughts of hot and sweaty <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> pass from our minds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-imVlIrVK9dk/Tg29bW6KuwI/AAAAAAAAB2w/um6E99yHh6A/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252838%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-imVlIrVK9dk/Tg29bW6KuwI/AAAAAAAAB2w/um6E99yHh6A/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252838%2529.JPG" width="342" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Walking back, with the sun casting long shadows and dappling the wood floor with light and shade, we noticed birds hovering on thermals over the Pedriza. The mountains here claim the title of the largest expanse of Granite in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FxM-SHjgqbc/Tg29o_PA7qI/AAAAAAAAB20/R6rdulEwfY8/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252839%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FxM-SHjgqbc/Tg29o_PA7qI/AAAAAAAAB20/R6rdulEwfY8/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252839%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">On the way from <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> I thought I was being clever and spotted the shape of a face in the rocks. My friend gave me that look which means I will for ever be a guiri and remarked that gazing at the slopes of the Pedriza is like observing shapes in the flames of a fire. She pointed out a tortoise, a helmet, which is what this particular peak, El Yelmo, is named for, and even a mammoth, while above us the rock formation known as the Canchos de los Muertos contemplated the living below.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WFjG4i-f09U/Tg290Yi-JbI/AAAAAAAAB24/gvrWszaSPGQ/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252840%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WFjG4i-f09U/Tg290Yi-JbI/AAAAAAAAB24/gvrWszaSPGQ/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+Alto+%252840%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">I am told that there are nearly a thousand different routes for hill walkers and rock climbers within the thirty two square kilometres of the Pedriza. I had already had enough exercise for one day and the only exercise I was now contemplating was raising a glass or two of cold beer.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SbLYogafGO4/Tg2-B58cmWI/AAAAAAAAB28/-6NYUqS9k4A/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+el+Real+Castle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SbLYogafGO4/Tg2-B58cmWI/AAAAAAAAB28/-6NYUqS9k4A/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+el+Real+Castle.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">This was achieved after we drove out of the park into the small town of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Manzanares el Real</st1:city></st1:place> where stands a real medieval castle and a church tower swarming with storks.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DaZD8vKxVw/Tg2-LmhpMyI/AAAAAAAAB3A/SPqmbjWIskw/s1600/Madrid_Manzanares+el+Real+with+storks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DaZD8vKxVw/Tg2-LmhpMyI/AAAAAAAAB3A/SPqmbjWIskw/s400/Madrid_Manzanares+el+Real+with+storks.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Below that tower, in a small plaza, lay a bar. Around me kids, lots of kids, probably something to do with the storks, played in the plaza. A beer sat in front of me - but not for long!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Now that was paradise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-64996936770767903042011-06-20T10:46:00.003+02:002011-06-20T17:02:50.104+02:00Not a quiet revolution.<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><i>By Richard Morley</i>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mcrlpFGJyLk/Tf8GZfeq_aI/AAAAAAAAB1g/A0udU5fHEDI/s1600/CIMG2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mcrlpFGJyLk/Tf8GZfeq_aI/AAAAAAAAB1g/A0udU5fHEDI/s400/CIMG2011.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The times they are a-changing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Something is happening here is <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and I am not sure what it is.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Now, not being a native, but a guest, I do not feel it has been appropriate for me to take sides with the “<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">i</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">ndignados</span>” (the indignant ones) who have recently been encamped in the Pueta del Sol here in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> and in public squares around the country. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have an opinion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kkuqRcaxSzU/Tf8IcKdYTII/AAAAAAAAB14/Q84Xib96qbA/s1600/CIMG2001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kkuqRcaxSzU/Tf8IcKdYTII/AAAAAAAAB14/Q84Xib96qbA/s400/CIMG2001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Before moving to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region> permanently I would compare the control being imposed by central government on the people of the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region> with the relative laissez faire attitude of the Spanish authorities. However, recent events here, for whatever reasons, have inculcated a feeling that the state is sticking it’s nose in where it’s not wanted. And in the minds of those who can remember a time when the Government very much imposed its will on the populace, this latest interference is not welcome. Particularly when the activities of that government seem to be doing nothing to relieve the very real and current concerns of a nation with massive debt, high unemployment, and a lack of confidence in the future.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Even though the next general election will probably see a change of political will in congress, the&nbsp;<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-GB">i</span><span lang="EN-GB">ndignados&nbsp;</span></span>don’t think that will change the direction in which the country is going. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Of course, part of the problem does not lie with central government, but with each of the autonomous regions where each&nbsp; creates their own problems. The workers’ unions must also take some of the blame. The “sindicatos” have been engaged in negotiations with the government in order to come up with some sort of policy that would make the creation of jobs easier. The employers say that the cost of employing people is high under current legislation and the social packages Spanish workers are entitled to make it expensive to fire people also. As the sindicatos have been refusing to relinquish workers rights and the employers have also dug their heels in, the negotiations reached an impasse. As the government want to be seen doing something, they will now impose an employment policy that no one will agree to. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Last year Esperanza Aguirre’s Comunidad de Madrid said it would cut fifty-eight legal steps from those needed to create a new business. They cut fifty-eight! How many are left? A friend of mine involved with starting a new business here in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> can answer that. Too damn many! </span><br /><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AQksKD0IjlY/Tf9gsKuWjYI/AAAAAAAAB18/nx1AGNoB0ZU/s1600/Madrid+Painters+ad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AQksKD0IjlY/Tf9gsKuWjYI/AAAAAAAAB18/nx1AGNoB0ZU/s400/Madrid+Painters+ad.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Many are not taking those steps. The ex-construction workers who want to put a roof over their family’s heads and food on their table can’t afford the luxury of time or the cost of legally starting a new business, so the lamp post are adorned with computer printed, or hand-written, advertisements for their services to decorate your home or replace a kitchen or bathroom. I am sure that most cannot afford the €3000 payment that must be made when starting any form of business, or the very high social security payments demanded of the self-employed. Not being legal, I doubt they are declaring their earnings for tax. They can’t legally take on employees either, so the unemployment numbers don’t get reduced and the hacienda, the tax office, loses revenue. But to make the process easier would mean that government </span>funcionarios<span lang="EN-GB">, civil servants, (a misnomer in many cases!), and </span>notarios<span lang="EN-GB"> would have nothing to do. Except get a proper job, of course!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MJNrZM-Vmus/Tf8Gvg5w7pI/AAAAAAAAB1k/_kdrBBMsks4/s1600/CIMG2007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MJNrZM-Vmus/Tf8Gvg5w7pI/AAAAAAAAB1k/_kdrBBMsks4/s400/CIMG2007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So, the&nbsp;<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-GB">i</span><span lang="EN-GB">ndignados&nbsp;</span></span>have been protesting. Firstly in the month long encampment that formed in Sol and other plazas around the country. Then in small demonstrations everywhere and culminating last weekend in street protests all over the country. They claim to want “Democracia, Ya!”, or democracy now, but enticed voters to spoil their ballot papers at the recent local elections. I don’t follow that. A young protester that recently gate-crashed the inauguration ceremony for the swearing in on the newly elected representatives of the Comunidad and managed to demand from Señora Aguirre what right she had to represent all the Madrileños as voter turn-out was far from 100% and there were so many spoiled papers. She replied that, “This is a free country and …… each is entitled to vote ……. and the nature of elections is to renew the mandate of those who had done a good job and throw out those who had a done a bad one.” She went on to remark that voting was the one important responsibility of a country’s citizens. I agree and will also say that those who did not vote, or enticed others not to vote, were not supporters of democracy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As Winston Churchill said (I think) “democracy has many faults but it’s better than the alternative”. &nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The protesters’ camp in Sol had their own problems with democracy. They had lots of noisy protests, but couldn’t actually agree an anything. Apparently their decisions needed everyone to agree. Just one dissenting voice meant they would not reach concensus, because the voice of the majority was not the voice of all. As Abraham Lincoln remarked, “…….. you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. In a democracy the minority have to lick their wounds and wait for their turn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKisVpqR_gk/Tf8HS_AkC-I/AAAAAAAAB1s/FTYaNcWSnek/s1600/CIMG1997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKisVpqR_gk/Tf8HS_AkC-I/AAAAAAAAB1s/FTYaNcWSnek/s400/CIMG1997.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But whatever the demonstrators protested about, they did it very noisily. Walking though Sol one Saturday evening at the height of the protests I was struck by the sheer volume of the voices raised in anger and was pleased that I wasn’t living in that neighbourhood and trying to get to sleep. It would have been impossible. And it would have been impossible for four long weeks. The erection of the encampment brought with it, despite the best efforts of the organisers to impose some order, a hygiene problem and restricted free passage though, and free use of, the Plaza. Many businesses reported a severe drop in trade because the “Democracia, Ya” protesters had imposed their own, un-elected will on the area.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And just as an aside here, When I wandered though the encampment which was set up to highlight and publicise the plight of so many, I noticed many notices restricting the taking of photographs. What were they afraid of? Surely they wanted all the publicity they could get? If you want someone to take notice, you have to stand and be counted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zh0txykTh2k/Tf8HCD7hC2I/AAAAAAAAB1o/4SbSWWz62xQ/s1600/CIMG2003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zh0txykTh2k/Tf8HCD7hC2I/AAAAAAAAB1o/4SbSWWz62xQ/s400/CIMG2003.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">However, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> is, whatever the protesters say, a democracy. They have the right to protest and freedom of speech. Having lived and worked in countries where neither of these things is a “right” I probably value them more highly than those under forty here do. Perhaps they should ask their parents and grandparents what the country was like before 1975.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But did they have the right to disturb the sleep and business life in Sol during their month long protest? You see, while the authorities let them do what they wanted, those same authorities are prohibiting loud music in the street in Chueca during Gay Pride weekend – because the local residents have complained.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1gs59zPSdg/Tf8IAWf1gDI/AAAAAAAAB10/1q-89OnmMyQ/s1600/CIMG1927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1gs59zPSdg/Tf8IAWf1gDI/AAAAAAAAB10/1q-89OnmMyQ/s400/CIMG1927.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And it’s not just Chueca. Over thirty barrios that traditionally have “fiestas patronales” such as the Verbena de Poloma in La Latina, in Tetuan for the Fiesta de Victoria and for the Fiesta de Carmen in Vallecas. All of them are being reviewed regarding the loudness of the entertainment that will now be allowed. A spokesman for the barrio of Tetuan commented,”…. In the first week of July there will be concerts and fairs in the plaza de Remonta. Of course they are noisy and some residents have already complained”. But “What would become of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> without the streets fairs?” said Fernando Garcia of the Cuatro Caminos neighbourhood association.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Suddenly <st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state>’s, and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s, live and let live attitude is undergoing a sea change. After years of smoking being allowed everywhere, now we have had to adjust to being restricted. Most of us smokers have happily taken that on board, but it must have affected sales as twice in two weeks the price of cigarettes came down recently.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Yes, that’s right. They came down! Amazing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">My recent remarks regarding a speed restriction on cycling in the new cycle lanes in Madrid Rio meant that I watched with some amusement interviews with cyclists on TV last week. They were angry. “Six kilometres an hour is hardly enough to allow you to balance”, claimed one. Another, echoing my point, argued that painted lines delineating walkers from those on wheels was the sensible solution. One more made the point that the cycle lanes were designed for the users to enjoy exercising on their machines and introducing ridiculous speed limits was not a proper solution. After all, they are called “Cycle Lanes”. Were these of a similar age to the young “<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-GB">i</span><span lang="EN-GB">ndignados</span></span>”? No, they senior citizens wanting to enjoy a bike ride in the sun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The smoking restrictions, noise controls (on a normally noisy city), reduced speed limits on the motorways and now other petty rules are seen by many here to be unwarranted intrusions into the citizens’ right to enjoy life. Non-smokers, those wanting peace and those who like to walk without fear of accident will all have their opinions – as do those who think otherwise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Shouldn’t we all learn to live together?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">.</span></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-55319546627422876282011-06-12T15:36:00.005+02:002011-06-14T08:31:44.299+02:00Madrid New Riverside Park - Madrid Rio.<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><i>By Richard Morley.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VBPhiL0661o/TfS5uHaib2I/AAAAAAAAB0Y/OcE13rV5XPQ/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252889%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VBPhiL0661o/TfS5uHaib2I/AAAAAAAAB0Y/OcE13rV5XPQ/s640/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252889%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Six years ago when I first came to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> I&nbsp; had no idea the city had a river. Today’s metro maps feature a zig-zag of pale blue giving an impression of the river’s route, but this doesn’t appear on maps until after 2007. The free street map given away by the tourist office also showed a blue squiggle in its bottom right corner with the word “<st1:place w:st="on">Rio</st1:place>”, but no actual name. The delights of the Prado, the Plaza Mayor, Sol and Gran via are so far removed from the watercourse that the river hardly registered in the mind. While <st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place> were built on the flood plains of their great rivers early settlements in the Spanish capital tended to be on the high plateau, which was probably much better for defence than confined in the river valley.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">While it might have supplied water for a small community, the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Manzanares</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place> has never carried enough water to provide for a thirsty city. I admit to having been rather scathing about the waterway in <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2010/05/by-richard-morley.html">past posts</a>, r</span>eferring to it, ironically, as the “Mighty Manzanares” and quoting the wag of a couple of centuries ago who wrote that “The Manzanares is eminently navigable by a coach and horses”.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Could it be that the city was a little ashamed of its river?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Certainly the history of the river seems to be one of slight utilitarian use to the city and so little regarded as to be isolated between the north and south bound lanes of the M30 ring road. The river ran, hidden,&nbsp; between them. In short, compared to the other delights of this wonderful town, the river was far from being regarded as one of &nbsp;its attractions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It was the forgotten river.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">That has now changed! But it took a while.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In 2006 I made a friend who told me she lived close to the Puente de Pragua in an area of the city I had not visited before. So now I had a new part of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> to discover. My trusty Michelin Map told me to head on metro line 5 to Piramides and cross the river by the Puente de Toledo. What a terrible scene of devastation awaited me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In 2004 a decision had been taken to redirect the M30 underground. <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state>’s alcalde, (mayor) <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Alberto Ruiz-Gallardón, or at least his advisors,</span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-GB">had determined that the motorway was “a barrier to movement in the urban areas it ran through”. The old road was anyway in disrepair and it was thought that tens of thousands of vehicles polluted the air and the waters of the river.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I could have agreed with this. I live on the other side of the city where the M30, all eleven lanes of it, does not exactly contribute to a healthy atmosphere. </span><br /><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZaUlvlHyY94/TfTGCOgtJlI/AAAAAAAAB1U/c5zfKM27aPM/s1600/Box+section+drawing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZaUlvlHyY94/TfTGCOgtJlI/AAAAAAAAB1U/c5zfKM27aPM/s400/Box+section+drawing.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Diagram of a section of both tunnel and Park. Walking through the new park you have no idea of the traffic passing below your feet.</span></i></b></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The project began in 2005, using one of the largest tunnel boring machines in the world, and was opened to traffic on the 5<sup>th</sup> of February 2007. I had arrived on the river bank at about the halfway point in its construction. It was a mess. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I took photos. See the “before” pictures in this sequence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tWIKEGZdbnw/TfS6D_NTAmI/AAAAAAAAB0c/g4OMP7vZ9Ho/s1600/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tWIKEGZdbnw/TfS6D_NTAmI/AAAAAAAAB0c/g4OMP7vZ9Ho/s640/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-755GN4bmMwE/TfS6OkinmCI/AAAAAAAAB0g/frDA5pWlYPU/s1600/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-755GN4bmMwE/TfS6OkinmCI/AAAAAAAAB0g/frDA5pWlYPU/s640/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal">But now look at those I took a couple of weekends ago. The river banks have been transformed into a rather wonderful park known as “Madrid Rio”. It’s all very new and immature at the moment, but the trees will grow, the stone will develop lichen and the yellow cycle-paths stain.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-BiO192Nwg/TfS6dWS0zUI/AAAAAAAAB0k/p2BmHqTUBoU/s1600/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-BiO192Nwg/TfS6dWS0zUI/AAAAAAAAB0k/p2BmHqTUBoU/s640/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7arEgdA6J50/TfS6k_nC5kI/AAAAAAAAB0o/Q0VhT-3yQ8g/s1600/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7arEgdA6J50/TfS6k_nC5kI/AAAAAAAAB0o/Q0VhT-3yQ8g/s640/Madrid+Rio+-+then+and+now+4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">This project has not been cheap. The tunnelising of this section of the motorway cost €237 million out of a total project budget of €3.9 billion. The actual cost of this new green area seems to be buried somewhere within those figures.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7spJJv8qjw/TfS7Bi_YJMI/AAAAAAAAB0s/3iMyPisuzG8/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7spJJv8qjw/TfS7Bi_YJMI/AAAAAAAAB0s/3iMyPisuzG8/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%25288%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But whatever the cost, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> has a new park and the statistics are astounding.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">23 new pedestrian bridges have been constructed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">3,200,000 square metres of new green areas have been developed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">26,263 new trees have been planted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">30 kilometres of cycle lanes and pedestrian paths</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">11 play spaces for kids</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">6 quiet spots for the elderly</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJz6AbkV710/TfS7ddfEzRI/AAAAAAAAB0w/YXE-9ZoXDnI/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252820%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJz6AbkV710/TfS7ddfEzRI/AAAAAAAAB0w/YXE-9ZoXDnI/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252820%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Competitions were run in schools to find out what the kids wanted to have and it truly is a place for all the family. I am particularly impressed with the way the play areas, safely placed under the traffic overpasses have been used to provide shade and how the bridges themselves are used to secure the chains for incredibly high swings and some form of bouncy elasticised activity for which I have no name, but it involves strapping yourself to a bungee cord crucifix and bouncing around on a trampoline. It looks fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And very energetic!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bQ5zWHR7IQw/TfS72M6ggeI/AAAAAAAAB00/P5-0QPbatuo/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252814%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bQ5zWHR7IQw/TfS72M6ggeI/AAAAAAAAB00/P5-0QPbatuo/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252814%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">&nbsp;The Puerta de Toledo. Now cleaned and open to pedestrians.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Unfortunately I am no longer a kid. I prefer something a little more relaxing, and the new walkways through newly planted woods and flower gardens provide just that. A walk along the river bank with a friend would be the ideal way to spend an evening.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But the aforementioned friend had other ideas! (And not for the first time do I wonder why I seem to choose my friends from sadists!) “Madrid Rio is seven kilometres long. We should cycle. There’s a place we can rent bikes,” she announced, cruelly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">There is, and you can find it <a href="http://www.ecomovingsports.com/index.php?option=com_content&amp;view=category&amp;layout=blog&amp;id=36&amp;Itemid=62">here</a>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ACX4lavbsCQ/TfS89CXy4HI/AAAAAAAAB08/ehD1-DnsqIg/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252871%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ACX4lavbsCQ/TfS89CXy4HI/AAAAAAAAB08/ehD1-DnsqIg/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252871%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Puente de Segovia with the Catherdral and Royal palace in the background.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s five minutes walk from the Puente de Segovia. It says on their website you could get there from either Príncipe Pio (Metro lines 6, 10 or R(from Opera) or Puerta del Angel (L6). Trust me when I tell you to only use Puerta del Angel, unless you want to walk what you will later be cycling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HJL7zIxXEcg/TfS8SWdCYnI/AAAAAAAAB04/e1om081qMWQ/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252857%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HJL7zIxXEcg/TfS8SWdCYnI/AAAAAAAAB04/e1om081qMWQ/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252857%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">&nbsp;Not a sight you will ever see again. The author on a bike beside the Manzanares River. Note the upside down boat bridges in the background.</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I calculated I hadn’t actually ridden a bicycle for fifteen years, but riding a bike is like, er, riding a bike. You don’t forget how it’s done, even if ones backside has become used to more comfortable seats. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It was a warm, sunny Saturday evening. My friend and I were not the only people to consider a </span>camino<span lang="EN-GB"> along the river bank a good idea. This was disadvantageous to our bike ride. During my first visit, on foot, to Madrid Rio a couple of weeks previously I had thought that the bikers were a little inconsiderate in wanting to cut a swathe through the massed ranks of us walkers. Now the foot was on the other pedal. The walkers were getting in the way of us bikers. For this I blame the </span>ayuntamiento<span lang="EN-GB">. Whoever decided that allowing pedestrians and those on wheels to share the same space needs seriously to think again. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wAtDdUgSu-s/TfS91kfZzoI/AAAAAAAAB1A/-JNeUGI0kgs/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252825%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wAtDdUgSu-s/TfS91kfZzoI/AAAAAAAAB1A/-JNeUGI0kgs/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252825%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The most modern of the new bridges accross the Manzanares. This is, officially, El Puente Arganzuela. It allows crossing between either side of the river in the new Parque Arganzuela. For strength it uses a helix design and so I think it should be known as el Puente del Sacacorchos, or "Corkscrew Bridge".</span></i></b></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8kmr8toxolI/TfS_K5SIkMI/AAAAAAAAB1E/tjo2oO_Sypg/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252840%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8kmr8toxolI/TfS_K5SIkMI/AAAAAAAAB1E/tjo2oO_Sypg/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252840%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Spanish walkers spread themselves, as anyone who’s tried to walk along Gran Via will attest. Threading a strange bicycle while still a bit wobbly through years of no practise was precarious to say the least. I did not want a confrontation with a mother, or worse, an abuela, after little Juan or Jauna had been crushed under the wheels of my machine. What should have been done, of course, and has been done on the newly constructed cycle lanes in my part of the city, is to designate areas. A simple painted line is all it would take. Indeed, they have actually made this designation on one of the new bridges, but the pedestrians took no notice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sIe2wXi4eI/TfS_alKnDVI/AAAAAAAAB1I/BHaRddamwXU/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%2528125%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sIe2wXi4eI/TfS_alKnDVI/AAAAAAAAB1I/BHaRddamwXU/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%2528125%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">However, breaking news: Today it has been announced the Señor <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Ruiz-Gallardón, the aforementioned mayor, has decided that the solution to this is to restrict the speed of cyclists to six kilometres and hour. It will be interesting to see how this is enforced as the cycles we hired did not have any method of measuring out speed so arguments with uniformed park police pointing accusatory fingers could come to an impasse. Maybe we shall have to have a man with a red flag walk in front – or will that just add to the log jam?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">But, pedestrian / bicycle gridlock aside, it was fun to ride these new lanes. The main problem is in the area now known as the parque de Aguanzuela, where most activity seems to take place. Once past that and it was almost the joys of the open road, cycling along side the river as far down as Legazpi / Usera. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OtYXyHewv-Y/TfS_pP-gD9I/AAAAAAAAB1M/Q9IloUQ_4Kk/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%2528104%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OtYXyHewv-Y/TfS_pP-gD9I/AAAAAAAAB1M/Q9IloUQ_4Kk/s400/Madrid+Rio+2011+%2528104%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">Now the park is open the sluice gates have been raised and the river has an appearance of actually containing water. It’s not very deep water as exposed sandbanks attest, but it’s a far cry from the polluted days of before. Mother ducks led lines of chicks, a heron stalked the sandbanks and near the Puente del Rey a fisherman looked optimistic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--yLb7ubA9xg/TfS_1LZAVsI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/sxahGz219Io/s1600/Madrid+Rio+-+Ermita+de+la+Virgen+del+Puerto+-++then+and+now+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--yLb7ubA9xg/TfS_1LZAVsI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/sxahGz219Io/s640/Madrid+Rio+-+Ermita+de+la+Virgen+del+Puerto+-++then+and+now+5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p>&nbsp;<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">While construction was going on the Ermita de Virgen del Puerta was buries in a sea of rubble. Now it is approchable though broad green parklands.</span></i></b></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">In a two fingered gesture to past criticism, most notably in a twenty year old pop song by the Refrescos which proclaimed the many attractions of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> but bewailed the fact it had no beach. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">“Vaya, vaya, No hay una playa en Madrid”, the </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">song’s</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">chorus</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">proclaimed</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">. This is no longer </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">true. As part of the new park, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place> has a beach – of sorts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">But some don’t need one. A stretch of grass will do. Crossing the Puente de Segovia one warm and sunny Monday afternoon I spied two bikinied young ladies working on an early tan. Encouragement indeed, if any were needed, to pay <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place>’s new attraction a visit.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MmuPv_cRbkc/TfS5Vz9BVzI/AAAAAAAAB0U/mbbDKaUrF9s/s1600/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252892%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MmuPv_cRbkc/TfS5Vz9BVzI/AAAAAAAAB0U/mbbDKaUrF9s/s640/Madrid+Rio+2011+%252892%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Who needs a beach when a lawn will do. Bikinied ladies work on their tan bedside the river.</span></i></b></span></span></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-69216281543875397402011-04-13T18:42:00.000+02:002011-04-13T18:42:05.394+02:00Ana-gram from Madrid<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I have just put the phone down. It was a pleasant conversation arranging a meeting tomorrow, but it started with a small confusion that, it seems to me at any rate, to be typical of my life here in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">After answering with my cheery “Hello”, the person on the other end asked, “Do you know who this is?” I have to admit the voice was not one I immediately recognised and the consequent hesitation in my voice must have given the game away, because my caller identified herself with, “This is Ana”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It is a pointer to the confusion in my life that this information was not immediately helpful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You see, I know several Anas. However, usually, after a few seconds I am able to put name together with the voice and work out which Ana it was. Not this time. It may help you to visualise my initial uncertainty that this Ana was introduced to me by me friend, Ana. If it had been that Ana, who I have known for a long time, I would have recognised her voice immediately. Had it been Ana with whom I used to have lunch every Wednesday for more than two years until her company moved her to an office in Pozuelo, an expanding suburb to the west of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> and where, she claims, “Jesus lost his sandals”, I would have known at once without her having to tell me. There is my student, Ana, but she has a very distinctive voice, so I knew it wasn’t her, and I knew it couldn't have been the Ana the inebriate, who I see at my local from time to time. I have never had, nor will have, reason to give her my number. But the Ana on the phone is relatively new in my life. In fact I have met her only three or four times and that was late last year. Since then she has travelled to, and around, <st1:place w:st="on">South America</st1:place> and has only just returned. I should feel flattered that she has called me to meet. She has, she told me, many things to speak about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">This phenomenon is not unknown at the English Villages I attend. (See last post.) Once with a plethora of Anas present the organisers decided to include the first letter of the family name to help differentiate the ladies. This led to one unfortunate wearing a name tag with “AnaL” on it. This was quickly changed to “Anita”. Another time we had five, yes five, ladies named Eva. We just numbered them, except for the last who was bulging in the eighth month of pregnancy. She was named “Eva Mummy”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Last summer it was neither a sequence of Anas (would this be an “Ana-logue”?) nor a plethora of Evas (an Eva-luation?) that was making my mind reel, but a quickly growing row, or should that be column, of Pilars. In fact in the month of July alone I entered the numbers of four ladies of that name into my telephone. There, they joined five ladies called Eva, three called Julia, two called <st1:city w:st="on">Marina</st1:city>, two called Mayte and, of course, a long long line of <st1:place w:st="on">Marias</st1:place>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In case you are thinking these list of ladies' names are some indication of a more prurient side of my life I might point out that at one time or another my phone has also contained copious Pedros, Davids, Juans and Pablos. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And, as I like to point out to the Christians who berate me for my evangelical atheism, unlike them I also have a Hot Line to Jesus. In fact several of them – of both sexes. Although Jesus Maria outnumbers Maria Jesus three to two. One of the Anas mentioned above is Ana Jesus and one I only know as Jesus. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">My list of Marias that I could say “Ave” to would be much longer, but fortunately Maria Eugenia chooses to call herself “Mariu”, ( and thank goodness for that. Four distinctly pronounced vowels in a row, followed by an “h” sound, is not easy for the English tongue: i-a-e-u-hah!) Maria Isabel is Maribel, another similarly named is Marissa and Maria Teresa number one is Mayte, number two is Maite. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It would seem that the naming of children in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> has, in the past, seemed a little repetitive. But there would seem to be only a limited number of saints and new testament personages and those are the names that are most favoured. That religious side to the Spanish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">carácter</i> has had great impact on the giving of names. I have been told that at one time the church, or at least individual priests, demanded that every girl child was baptised Maria, whatever name her parents had chosen. There were, and are, whole families where every woman is officially named Maria Something.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I have also met a family where all four offspring bear the name Maria – and one of them is male!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">When a male child is born I can almost guarantee that I know the child’s name before I am told. It will be the father’s name. Sometimes, in this freer age, I will be wrong, but Miguels beget other Miguels and Fernandos beget Fernandos, two examples I am familiar with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">However, this will not necessarily cause confusion as a) the children will have a slightly different surname to their parents, and b) nick-names will be used. I know of three generations of Maria Soledads who each answer to a different contraction of that name. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The Spanish seem slow to change in this respect. There are plenty of Albertos running around in school playgrounds here. I doubt there one Albert in any school in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">UK</st1:country-region></st1:place>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I am told that there used to be a list of “official” names and any not included were just not allowed. That has changed, but not necessarily for the good. I have heard that the children of immigrants are being given the most outlandish names; usually after well-known personalities and actors. However, my own country seems to be following this trend with a vengeance. I am sure their will be just as many Catherines born this year as there were Dianas in 1981. As a boy in the 1950s I remember sharing classrooms with a plethora of Annes and Elizabeths. No Charles though! I cannot remember one boy called Charles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And the double Christian names are no longer required, although I know of only one person with just a single first name. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Occasionally though, I find the odd unusual name. Three years ago I met my first Covadonga, named after the 722 battle of Covadonga, a battle which is said to have kindled the reconquista of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> from the marauding Muslims, or the place where the battle took place. Apparently it is a relatively common name in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Asturias</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Now I know three, the third only a week ago, in comparison to the many tens of <st1:place w:st="on">Marias</st1:place>. I know just one Amparo, which I am told is now very old fashioned, although the lady herself is far from fitting that description. I am jealous of my friend Rafael. What I would give for such a dignified and culturally important, name. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But one particular memory has stayed with me since my early days in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Sitting with friends in a bar I suddenly realised that at either end of a short sofa sat a Maria and a José, and sitting between them was a Jesus. I couldn’t resist. I got down on my knees and ……</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-62812144830248520762011-03-21T16:07:00.000+01:002011-03-21T16:07:27.552+01:00Son of the Moon<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">By Richard Morley.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KNll0JCimV4/TYdmIp67u_I/AAAAAAAABzk/pDJuvtuo5QQ/s1600/Papa+Luna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KNll0JCimV4/TYdmIp67u_I/AAAAAAAABzk/pDJuvtuo5QQ/s320/Papa+Luna.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">A few days ago I came head to head with a Pope. Or, to be more accurate, an Antipope.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Let me give you a little history.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">In the fourteenth century the French town of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city>, up to then a place of little importance, became the residence of the Pope. Actually several popes when the Holy See moved, for it's own security, out of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city></st1:place>. The last Pope to reign there was Pope Gregory XI, who, in 1377, was persuaded by Saint Catherine of <st1:city w:st="on">Siena</st1:city> to return to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rome</st1:place></st1:city>. One of his followers was a certain Pedro Martinez de Luna y Pérez de Gotor, a man born to a noble family in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Aragon</st1:placename></st1:place>. A member of the Aristocratic Luna family, he had been born in the small town of <st1:city w:st="on">Illueca</st1:city>, about halfway between Calatayuz and <st1:place w:st="on">Zaragoza</st1:place>. As a child he had lived in the family castle set on a hilltop overlooking the tiny village. When he came of age he studied law at the <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Montpelier</st1:placename> in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, where he obtained a doctorate and taught Canon Law. His noble birth and high education caught the attention of Pope Gregory, who appointed Pedro as Cardinal Deacon of <st1:city w:st="on">Santa Maria</st1:city> in Cosmedin, a minor basilica in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rome</st1:place></st1:city>, in 1375.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">So, two years later when Gregory restored the Holy See to Rome Pedro Martinez de Luna was one of his greatest supporters. Unfortunately, the following year Gregory died and was replaced with Urban VI with the assistance of this new cardinal. Urban, however, was not a great Pope. He was seen as haughty, superior and completely dismissive of the advice of his cardinals and the will of the people. In fact one of his critics went so far as to say he was “completely lacking in Christian gentleness and charity”. Hardly admirable qualities for the head of the Christian Church.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Meanwhile, the French, not particularly happy to have lost the seat of the Pope from their country, began to conspire against him. The Catholic church split into two factions. On the one hand the countries of <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region>, The Holy Roman Empire, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Denmark</st1:country-region>, Northern Italy, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Hungary</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Poland</st1:country-region>, and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Ireland</st1:country-region> came out in support of Urban and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rome</st1:place></st1:city>. On the other, France, of course, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Aragon</st1:country-region>, Castille and <st1:city w:st="on">Leon</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Burgundy</st1:state>, <st1:state w:st="on">Savoy</st1:state>, and Southern Italy wanted to see the Pope back in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">And, if Urban wasn't going to move there, and he wasn't, they were going to elect another Pope who would.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">So, a few months after Urban was elected Pope in <st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city>, at a conclave of Cardinal in Fondi in Southern Italy, Robert of Geneva was elected and set up as Pope in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Avignon</st1:city></st1:place>, becoming Pope Clement VII.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">With Urban in <st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city> and Clement in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city>, so began the start of a forty year period known as the Western Schism. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pedro Martinez, obviously seeing which way the wind was blowing, decided to go to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city> with Clement. This proved to be a good move because twelve days after Clement's death in September 1394, Pedro was elected Pope, taking the name Benedict XIII. Well, that’s the official name. If you talk about Benedict XIII, the Catholict church will assume you are talking about the one who was pope between 1734 and 1730.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">From the 1377 return from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city> until the present day, only the Roman popes are recognised as the true inheritors of Saint Peter’s legacy. History being written by the victors, the popes of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Avignon</st1:city></st1:place> are known for posterity as “Antipopes”. And the antipope from Illueca is known more commonly known as “Papa Luna”.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Urban had died in 1389 and was replaced with Boniface IX and a decade later the perfidious French decided their allegiance was, after all, with Rome, and Pedro, or Pope Benedict XIII, or Papa Luna, lost most of his support. He was left with just five cardinals although he was still regarded as the true Pope in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region>, <st1:state w:st="on">Sicily</st1:state>, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Aragon</st1:place></st1:country-region> and Castille. So he stayed in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Avignon</st1:place></st1:city>. This did not please the French who, in 1398, began a five year siege of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Papal</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Palace</st1:placetype></st1:place>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">In 1403 Benedict escaped under the protection of the Duke of Anjou. Boniface died the following year and his successor, Innocent VII, died in 1406. He was replaced by Gregory XII, who magnanimously suggested both he and Benedict should resign to make way for a Pope that was agreeable to the whole Catholic church. To this end the Council of Pisa was set up to organise a peaceful transition. But Benedict wasn't having any of it despite both Gregory XII and his successor, John XXIII, agreeing to resign. Exasperated, no doubt, by this obstinate priest, John declared Benedict a “Schismatic” and excommunicated him. He had been pope for twenty eight years and two hundred and thirty eight days. Benedict, living up to then in Perpignon near the eastern French side of the <st1:place w:st="on">Pyrenees</st1:place>, now fled to the castle at Peñíscola near Valancia under the protection of Alfonso V. It was there he died in 1423. If you have seen the film of El Cid, the castle at Peñíscola played the part of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Valencia</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m7CkDWxXa4k/TYdmwwUAnkI/AAAAAAAABzs/C-y4XnbeL8E/s1600/Illueca_Castle+onits+peak.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m7CkDWxXa4k/TYdmwwUAnkI/AAAAAAAABzs/C-y4XnbeL8E/s400/Illueca_Castle+onits+peak.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Benedict's body, on the orders of the Aragonese king Alfonso, was brought back to the family castle in Illueca and laid to rest. But in the early 1800s when <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> was under French rule, Napoleon’s army attacked the castle and, maybe because the French have long memories, the remains of Papa Luna were disinterred and unceremoniously thrown into the river. The only part that was rescued was the skull and this was spirited away to the castle of the duke of <st1:state w:st="on">Anjou</st1:state>, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sauvignon</st1:city>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place>. Remember, the duke of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Anjou</st1:place></st1:state> was his only French supporter. In the year 2000 the skull was finally returned, with much pomp and ceremony, to Illueca and the castle<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>(A small digression here. The current Duke of Anjou is a Great grandson of Alfonso XIII, the king of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> who abdicated in 1931, and a Grandson of Francisco Franco. He is a claimant to the French throne. It’s a small world in European aristocracy!)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kV6ZDbMtebY/TYdm_cfrCzI/AAAAAAAABzw/iTSrTfXJvuc/s1600/Illueca_Castle+Facade.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kV6ZDbMtebY/TYdm_cfrCzI/AAAAAAAABzw/iTSrTfXJvuc/s400/Illueca_Castle+Facade.JPG" width="341" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The castle is now a hotel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>I was staying there courtesy of <a href="http://www.morethanenglish.com/anglos/index.asp">Pueblo Inglés</a>, the company that brings Spanish students of English into direct contact with native English speakers in an immersion programme to improve their use of the language. There, in a rather gruesome<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>illuminated display in the hotel reception, sits the skull of Papa Luna. It was with this that I came to have a nodding acquaintance a few days ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0bp5LqTHyCw/TYdmhllXgdI/AAAAAAAABzo/Z0XqRLRSU8g/s1600/Illueca_The+skull+of+Papa+Luna.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0bp5LqTHyCw/TYdmhllXgdI/AAAAAAAABzo/Z0XqRLRSU8g/s400/Illueca_The+skull+of+Papa+Luna.JPG" width="267" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">This weekend all our students were teachers of English, or teachers who teach in English, (there is a difference!) from the state schools of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Aragon</st1:country-region></st1:place>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Before I went there I was told by several Madrileños that the people of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Aragon</st1:place></st1:country-region> have a reputation for stubbornness. This was confirmed by one of the teachers who told me a joke. “How do you get twelve Aragonese<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>in a mini car? Tell them they can't”. So, given the history above, I was delighted to find that there is a Spanish idiom that is used to describe a stubborn person: “Seguir en sus trece” - to stay in his / her thirteen, which is a direct reference to the intransigence of antipope Benedict XIII, who just didn't want to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Illueca is still a small town. The population in 2004, at the last census, showed just<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>3,396<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>inhabitants. I doubt it's not much more now, for a number of reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-HQ66X4HmX30/TYdopRgkIsI/AAAAAAAAB0I/1PyVLe8_if4/s1600/CIMG1773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-HQ66X4HmX30/TYdopRgkIsI/AAAAAAAAB0I/1PyVLe8_if4/s400/CIMG1773.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p>&nbsp;<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The early morning sun settles gently on the hills around Illueca. In the foreground is a small industrial site where the remnants of the once important shoe industry is still continued.</span></i></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Historically the town relied on agriculture and the manufacture of textiles. Apparently at one time it was famous for its production of dusters. A strange thing to base an economy on! Since the 12<sup>th</sup> and 13<sup>th</sup> centuries, when the name of the place was either Illicata or Illoca, there has always been some form of textile or leather trade. It was the latter that brought the greatest income and until very recently shoe and boot making was the town’s bread and butter. As recently as the last decade it was trumpeting its different styles of industrial safety footwear. However, as seen in other European towns that produced boots, that trade has largely migrated to the far east. It was not that long ago that I lived a short distance from the home of Doc Martins in <st1:city w:st="on">Northampton</st1:city> in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Those boots are now produced in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">South Korea</st1:place></st1:country-region>!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wNaDkRe3dJk/TYdnSj4FsHI/AAAAAAAABz0/H90KiSzkw2M/s1600/Illueca_Old+town+and+New.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wNaDkRe3dJk/TYdnSj4FsHI/AAAAAAAABz0/H90KiSzkw2M/s400/Illueca_Old+town+and+New.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">From the high vantage point of the Luna castle the visitor can look down on two aspects of the town. Nestled directly below the castle is a tangle of narrow streets and alleys of the old town. Some of the streets are stepped as they slope steeply up to the castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Wandering through this labyrinth I found the Calle Mayor – and found it to be just three of my paces, about two and a half metres, wide. Not very mayor! On both sides of these tiny streets the houses are small and narrow. Looking down from the castle can be seen collapsed roofs and vacant lots where a building once stood. There is an air of weary dilapidation about the place, although there are a few houses where a lick of paint and cement rendering has kept the house alive, you can also see houses that have irredeemably died on their foundations.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W_v_sfFfb-A/TYdnZ-2BgYI/AAAAAAAABz4/lMRwW3GqUag/s1600/Illueca_+open+roofs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W_v_sfFfb-A/TYdnZ-2BgYI/AAAAAAAABz4/lMRwW3GqUag/s400/Illueca_+open+roofs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Beyond the old town lies the new. A development of new apartments, some utilitarian, some with some thought to their design, lie along the flatter valley floor. The main street is the normal mix of bars and shops. A shoe shop sells far eastern imports, piled high and sold cheap. A pair of plastic trainers for €8, football boots for €12. Irony in a town that once produced quality leather goods. Trading on its history, there is a factory outlet that sells proper leathers shoes, but no sign of where they are made. Mind you, a quick check of industries in the area shows there is still a great connection to the supply of footwear. Just how much is actually manufactured in the town is debateable. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HQjFDiT2ZCM/TYdnjU63VwI/AAAAAAAABz8/n1fbv7oMx5A/s1600/Illueca_Stepped+Street.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HQjFDiT2ZCM/TYdnjU63VwI/AAAAAAAABz8/n1fbv7oMx5A/s400/Illueca_Stepped+Street.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The teachers I spoke to that weekend told me the town had a bad reputation for its schools. This has not been for lack of government spending. The teachers told me this: That due to the money that could be earned in the shoe factories the kids left school as soon as legally possible. Very few went on to further education. Illueca, having little in the way of nightlife, except bars, and the money earned by the young workers led to drug taking and alcohol abuse. This trickled down to the kids still at school, who already having little interest in academic learning, made life difficult for the teachers. The education authority invested eight million euros in a school of design and art – appropriate for an area that relied on the changing whims of footwear fashion – but apparently not many students applied.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bCxD5jW2Ges/TYdnrSzvccI/AAAAAAAAB0A/mVyXVn9pfO8/s1600/Illueca_Climb+to+the+castle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bCxD5jW2Ges/TYdnrSzvccI/AAAAAAAAB0A/mVyXVn9pfO8/s400/Illueca_Climb+to+the+castle.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">This is, of course, always a problem when a town depends on one local industry and that industry disappears.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The community of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Aragon</st1:country-region> is divided into three provinces, Huesca, <st1:place w:st="on">Zaragoza</st1:place> and Truel, which are subdived into thirty three comarcas, or counties. The population is slightly less than one and a half million, with half living in <st1:place w:st="on">Zaragoza</st1:place>. Mostly the community is a collection of small, isolated, villages. Illueca is the head of the Arranda Comarca, named for the river that flows through the town. The meeting rooms for the council are also in the castle. We actually had some of our meeting and classes in the council chambers, a smallish room that was none-the-less filled with microphones.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yx_V2swcd-g/TYdn1msVs3I/AAAAAAAAB0E/DNEArhY5TKc/s1600/Illueca_Town+Hall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yx_V2swcd-g/TYdn1msVs3I/AAAAAAAAB0E/DNEArhY5TKc/s400/Illueca_Town+Hall.JPG" width="328" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Down in the valley, where the old town merges with the new, the local town council offices overlook a sunny plaza in an otherwise narrow street. It was here they debated on whether the fate of name of the Calle Franco. There is a movement, largely successful, to rid the towns of memories of the Civil War and Franco’s legacy. But if they were to change the name, what important event or personage could possibly replace that of Franco. Well, there was a faction in the town who wanted to celebrate the great achievements of one </span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Rodolfo Chikilicuatre, the singer (if that’s the word!) of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s 2008 entry in the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2sun973nfY">Eurovision song contes</a>t. I suspect this was a <a href="http://pichicola.com/illlueca-se-queda-sin-chiki-chiki/">publicity stunt</a> to bring the town some prominence. If so, it worked<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>as it’s the only bit of news to come out of the town for years. As it happens, the motion was not passed and as far as I know, the street named for the dictator. (At least according to GoogleMaps.)</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">In these days of economical crises, a small community like Illueca will be struggling. However, they are Aragonese, and given their propensity for stubbornness I am sure they will “Seguir con sus trece”. I mean, Papa Luna outlived five “proper” popes. The people from Illueca are obviously survivors.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.25pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-87983023264278451982011-02-27T12:52:00.003+01:002011-02-27T13:07:09.023+01:00One Hundred Small Pieces<em><strong>By Richard Morley.</strong></em><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--zq_rFmwoXo/TWo5eGLbw8I/AAAAAAAABzQ/Z2EY42t-RgM/s1600/Peseta+%252847%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--zq_rFmwoXo/TWo5eGLbw8I/AAAAAAAABzQ/Z2EY42t-RgM/s320/Peseta+%252847%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />A “Real” was a Spanish coin introduced by King Pedro I of Castille. Later on came the coin known as the “Peso”, Spanish for “weight” which was the equivalent of eight “reals” and legally weighed 27.468 grams of silver. Other names for the Peso were the “real de ocho”, “the eight real coin”, and the “Thaller” or “Spanish Dollar”. Worth eight reals, now you know where the phrase beloved of pirates, and parrots, “Pieces of Eight” comes from.<br /><br />On the 23rd of December 1865 four countries, France, Belgium, Italy and Switzerland, formed the Latin Monetary Union and agreed to standardize their national currencies to conform to four and a half grams of silver, which allowed them to freely use, and trust, each others’ currency. So began an experiment with a currency while not international in fact, became one in practise. Indeed, France, Belgium and Switzerland did use the same name, the Franc, for their currency, although Italy used “Lira” because it was them, four years earlier, under King Vittorio Emanuelle II, who had decided to standardize the currencies used in that country to a coin of four and a half grams weight. Although originally a “Lira” was actually equivalent to a pound weight of silver. Rather too heavy for the average pocket!<br /><br />The idea of monetary union in Europe was such a success that in preparation to join the LMU Spain, on the 26th of June 1864, decreed that a new coin, the peseta, replacing the old escudo, would also weigh four and a half grams of silver.<br /><br />The name, “peseta” comes from a catalan word, paceta, meaning “a small piece of something”, and the peseta was meant to be small piece of the peso – a fifth, in fact.<br /><br />Spain and Greece joined the LMU in 1868, followed by Romania, Bulgaria, Venezuela, Serbia and San Marino in 1896. The Vatican also joined, but when it was found its coins did not contain the requisite amount of precious metal the Swiss and French banks insisted on its ejection. Records do not tell if the pieces of silver inspected numbered thirty, but they were kicked out anyway! Later, the exchange rate of the member currencies was changed from a silver to a gold standard, but the LMU survived until the reorganization (if that could possibly be the right word) of Europe caused by the First World War.<br /><br />So, monetary union in Europe is not a new thing. It remained a successful concept for more than half a century. I wonder if back in the 1870s people were blaming it for increasing prices and the ruination of their banking system. Perhaps not. Being the LATIN Monetary Union, Germany was kept out of it.<br /><br />Spain, of course, continued to use the peseta until its eventual replacement by the Euro in January 2002, but remained as legal coinage until March. After which no peseta coins could be used - ever – again!<br /><br />Repeat – EVER!<br /><br />So why, when emptying trouser pockets prior to a spot of laundry a few days ago, did I find a one hundred peseta coin among my change?<br /><br />I know how. I had only made one purchase that morning – a packet of cigarettes – from which the change from a five euro note would have been seventy five céntimos, usually consisting of one 50, one 20 and one 5 céntimo coins. The estanco that had sold me the cigarettes had slipped me, instead of the 50 céntimo coin, a hundred peseta coin. Almost totally alike in size and colour, although the 100 peseta coin weighs nine grams opposed to the 50 céntimo’s eight (according to our diet portion weighing kitchen scales), I had failed to notice the difference while sliding the change into my pocket.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VHu8krmoYSs/TWo5-tPM87I/AAAAAAAABzU/vCLVWH7gMOQ/s1600/Peseta+%252818%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" l6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VHu8krmoYSs/TWo5-tPM87I/AAAAAAAABzU/vCLVWH7gMOQ/s400/Peseta+%252818%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SLjyLkPdDfU/TWo6G18yoPI/AAAAAAAABzY/vGAzF5vf1V0/s1600/Peseta+%252836%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SLjyLkPdDfU/TWo6G18yoPI/AAAAAAAABzY/vGAzF5vf1V0/s400/Peseta+%252836%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />So much too for that silver standard of the LMU. If we were still using it my rogue coin would have weighed four hundred and fifty grams – a pound of silver – and be worth around €400 at today’s prices. If only – sigh! I would be writing a different post if that were the case.<br /><br />Evil thoughts began to cloud my mind. The estanco I had used was not one I had used before. Had they taken advantage of my unique guiri status to palm me off with useless currency? To be charitable, perhaps they had not noticed either. Maybe this coin has been circulating, masquerading as a fifty céntimo coin, for years, refusing to acknowledge its now worthless status.<br /><br />It was minted in 1988 and bears the head of the King, Juan Carlos I, looking incredibly like his son, Felipe, does today. It is hardly worn, its aluminium-bronze composition having stood up to the test of time and jingling against other coins in pockets and purses very well.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-svlJn-zPtMM/TWo6TGQ8YLI/AAAAAAAABzc/pPqb1KE7jWM/s1600/Peseta+%252835%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-svlJn-zPtMM/TWo6TGQ8YLI/AAAAAAAABzc/pPqb1KE7jWM/s320/Peseta+%252835%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Aluminium-bronze is mostly copper with varying degrees of aluminium, iron, nickel, manganese and zinc added into the mix. It is worrying to note that a maximum of 0.4% arsenic was allowed.<br /><br />The composition of the newly hatched usurper, the fifty céntimo coin is something called “Nordic Gold” consisting of again, mostly copper, but with 5% aluminium, 5% zinc and 1% tin. Apparently this combination of metals is supposed to make the coins antimicrobial, that is, it inhibits the growth of bacteria, fungi and protozoans. (Sometimes this blog is just a mine of information!)<br /><br />But whatever my one hundred peseta coin is made of, it is still worthless. And it remains so despite friends gleefully telling me that I have done well out of the deal. That my new possession, at the peseta / euro conversion rate is actually worth eighty-three of these new fangled céntimos.<br /><br />Try telling that to the unsmiling, unhelpful check-out girl in Dia!<br /><br />No one wants my coin. Not even machines. That, incidentally, was the only time I tried to spend it. It was not from dishonesty, but from curiosity. I wondered if the machine could tell the difference. It can. It fell through the metro ticket machine without even touching the sides, landing with a guilt ridden clunk in the tray. There was a security guard standing nearby. I glanced warily over my shoulder as I shamefully retrieved the coin and shoved it deep into a pocket. <br /><br />It’s not legal tender. I would be breaking the law. There are already several tens of thousands of counterfeit fifty céntimo coins in circulation. In the first five years after the coin’s introduction more than thirteen thousand were found. Of course this is nothing compared with the forty three thousand one euro and three hundred and sixteen euro coins that were also found to be phoney in the same period. And my 100 peseta coin, despite its twelve years of perfectly legal status up to a decade ago, is now just a worthless disk.<br /><br />Incidentally, most counterfeit coins are of <a href="http://europa.eu/rapid/pressReleasesAction.do?reference=MEMO/07/19">German origin</a>, which might be why they have the money to bail out everyone else. I’m not accusing – just thinking aloud, you understand.<br /><br />So I cannot with good conscience attempt to spend the coin. During an unworthy second I thought about dropping it in the cup of the annoying beggar who molests every passer-by outside my supermarket and seriously contemplated giving it to the violinist who plays Bésame Mucho badly on the metro. But I am an honest man, I like to think, and could not do it.<br /><br />I can’t change it in a bank. It’s too old. Apparently only coins placed into circulation in 1997 and commemorative 2000 peseta coins can be changed, according the Bank of Spain’s website.<br /><br />It seems I am stuck with it. A souvenir of times gone by when it would have bought me a couple of coffees or even a pack of cigarettes. Like me, it’s old and past its prime. Unwanted and unvalued. <br /><br />No wonder the estanco wanted shot of it. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dnoZdfg-6uQ/TWo64AHI73I/AAAAAAAABzg/vR4NbkrALOE/s1600/Peseta+%252846%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dnoZdfg-6uQ/TWo64AHI73I/AAAAAAAABzg/vR4NbkrALOE/s320/Peseta+%252846%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-11461008912882236182011-02-20T14:46:00.000+01:002011-02-20T14:46:26.530+01:00Living off the fat of the land.By richard Morley<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PYAz-LcwSn4/TWEaNrkeiCI/AAAAAAAABzM/8LIDdFwgb3o/s1600/Bacon+Sandwich+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" j6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PYAz-LcwSn4/TWEaNrkeiCI/AAAAAAAABzM/8LIDdFwgb3o/s400/Bacon+Sandwich+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />It not often that my actions lead to cries of, “That's disgusting”, but I managed it last week. In fact, twice in about thirty seconds, which has to be some sort of record. The first was when I told a student that I loved eating liver. Luckily, being Spanish she was not able to make the English pun, “Oh, but that's offal”, but she did say it was awful and added, horrible.<br /><br /><br />The second register of disgust came when I told her how I cooked it, but that's for later.<br /><br />I have never understood why some people don't like liver. It full of iron, absolutely zero fat, and delicious. What is there not to like? Furthermore, there's liver and liver; from all sorts of animals and prepared in different ways. At the start of the English Villages that I attend the organisers usually arrange an activity that makes sure that we all meet each other. One of these is a series of questions about our fellow villagers' likes and dislike, their favourite activities, or whether they have met someone famous and so on. One of the questions is, “Do you like liver”, because they believe that it will not be easy to find anyone who does. And lots of people say they don't …....only to admit they do quite like paté. Well, that's liver folks, just processed.<br /><br />I am no biologist, but I think most of the higher order of animals have livers and I have eaten a few in my time. There are all the usual suspects like cow, sheep and pig's liver, even kudu while isolated in a flooded African plain for a week with no food supply from our base able to get through, and my favourite, which is goat's. That comes from a long time of goat's liver and onions for breakfast while working in Africa. Here in Europe it seems goats are for milking and not for eating, so I have missed that particular delicacy for a while now. However, that is compensated by the wonderful goats' cheeses that Spain provides its consumers.<br /><br />Back to livers and we have to work through the birds like duck, goose and chicken livers which while delicious when turned into paté, are superb in their natural state. My ex had a recipe from our time in Egypt of chickens' liver and rice that was outstanding. However, I think we should obtain our offal as a natural by-product of the animals' slaughter. The forced feeding of French geese just to produce foie gras, despite it producing a superbly delicious paté, is something I find as hard to stomach as much as the poor bird, so I won't eat it any more. But the French produce some Duck patés that are out of this world, so I won't complain.<br /><br />It's probably too late to warn vegetarians that they probably won't like this post, but they should stop now, because if they are fuming at what I have written so far, they are going to hate what comes next. <br /><br />You see, not only do I consume meat, I also like melting animals down and using then to cook with. What I mean, of course, is cooking with animal fat, which is how I disgusted my student a second time. Two or three times a week I will have a bacon sandwich for lunch. I throw a few rashers of smoked bacon into a non-stick frying pan and when cooked put the bacon between two doorstops of bread. <br /><br />Smoked bacon seems to be difficult to obtain in Spain. They have so many delicious ways of curing hams and bacon and because the country is generally warmer, have no need of the northern European fires from which the bacon gets its delicious smoky taste. I used to have a problem buying it here in my little barrio, but since Carrefour opened a “Market” (and I do wonder why it is not a Mercado!) not half a stone’s throw from my apartment and which I treat as a walk-in larder, that problem has been resolved. So chalk one up for Carrefour, which is saying something as, smoked bacon aside, their “Markets” fail on so many levels. A vegetable section that does not sell carrots, no salted butter in the dairy section, no HP sauce in the condiments. Thank heavens for Eroski, a complete stone’s throw in the other direction that does sell all these things.<br /><br />But back to my bacon sandwiches.<br /><br />What remains in the pan after the cooking is all the melted fat from the bacon, which I store in a refrigerated container, and it's in that which I cook the liver. My student was disgusted. <br />“Don't you cook in olive oil”, she railed at me, as if by not using the oil of the olive I was committing some sort of sacrilegious or unpatriotic act.<br /><br />And the answer is no, I don't.<br /><br />I do like olive oil on my bread and on salads. Crusty bread dipped in rosemary flavoured olive oil is fantastic, but I don't like the taste when it is heated – and I can't stand the smell it produces when hot. So I will either use a corn or sunflower oil, or peanut oil in the wok, or use melted down animal.<br /><br />By why do I resort to leeching the fat out of my bacon? Well, here in Spain its almost the only resource. The Spanish like their meat, with the exception of jamón, it seems, devoid of fat. Meat for sale in supermarkets has had all the fat trimmed away. A pork chop, or chuleta de cerdo, looks withered and naked lying on its polystyrene supermarket tray. It all lean meat. Steaks are trimmed, sausages, salchichas, are all meat, and nothing but the meat, and lamb, cordero, is the same. It's not a cry of, “Where's the beef?” that is raised when meat shopping, but, “Where's the fat?”<br /><br />And don’t get me started on the unavailability of suet!<br /><br />A friend who cooks a traditional English roast beef meal each Three Kings watched with dismay when buying the joint for the first of such annual treats when, after weighing the joint with its fat attached, the butcher proceeded to trim the fat away to be discarded before passing it over the counter. My friend protested, I am sure to the confusion of the carnicero, and got the fat back. And now each year the beef comes with it fat still firmly attached.<br /><br />Now I am well aware that we should not consume quantities of fat. It clogs our arteries and piles on the weight. But meat should be cooked with its fat, or in it's own grease for the flavour. <br /><br />And not just meat, but vegetables too. My friend, the chef of the Three Kings dinner, was delighted this year to find a jar of Grasse d'Oie, French goose fat, for sale in the El Corte Inglés specialist food section. (I think it was there. He'll correct me if I am wrong, but he found it for sale in Madrid never-the-less!) This was used for roasting the potatoes and parsnips that came with the beef. And they were delicious.<br /><br />Which leads us to a study carried out in the south west of France where the consumption of goose fat and duck fat is probably higher than anywhere in the world and yet the population have one of the lowest rates of heart disease anywhere. Known as the <a href="http://www.francesudouest.com/decouvertes/gastronomie/bienfaits.htm">“Paradoxe Français”,</a> not only does the consumption of this type of fat not cause coronary disease, it actually seems to protect against it. I have spent some time in the French “département” of Gers where everything seems to come packed in containers of fat, even plums. When I first saw this I remember remarking, “My god, a heart attack in a jar”, but it seems I was very wrong.<br /><br />And yes, I suppose that the fat from birds could probably have a different consistency to that from four legged farm animals, and that we should choose our edible fats with care. But food is more than just for nutrition; its taste is just as important. <br /><br />And here, if you will pardon the bad joke, is my “beef” with Spanish food.<br /><br />But before the deportation squad comes to manhandle me to the Pyrenean border I have to say I find most Spanish food fantastically delicious, with the exception of paella, but that's just me and my relationship with rice. Spanish food, and here I mean standard main courses, not desserts, has some wonderful flavours, but it has no spicy peaks or bitter lows. <br /><br />A Mexican friend claims not to have eaten a decent meal, outside of his own kitchen, since he has lived in Madrid. Recently I have tried to entice Spanish friends to eat Indian or Thai, both of which are readily available in the capital, but to no avail. This is a land where HP sauce is considered “hot”. At the recent Three Kings roast dinner I persuaded a Spanish guest to follow my example and thinly smear English mustard on a slice of Jamon Iberico. I swear he then drank a whole can of Mahou Classic in five seconds flat just to put the fire out. So-called “sabor de curry” flavoured noodles on sale at my local Carrefour are bland.<br /><br />Of course, I generalise! <br /><br />Of course, Spain has a special relationship with olive oil. It claims to produce forty-four percent of the world’s supply. I have seen the serried ranks of olive groves while travelling south. There are dark tales of Italian produces buying Spanish oil in tanker loads and selling it as Italian oil, but that might be un mito urbano, but I know a lady whose sole job is to verify the quality of Spanish olive oil before it can be imported to middle-eastern countries, where it is prized apparently.<br /><br />On bread, on salads, with fish, olive oil is wonderful. But nothing will crisp roast potato like goose fat or enrich the taste of liver like pig fat. My friends tell me that after nearly six years of living in Spain I am beginning to lose my “guiri” status, but old habits – and tastes – die hard.<br /><br />I am having a large dinner this evening, so Sunday lunch was a simple bacon sandwich, which you can see at the head of this post. I do hope I haven’t disgusted anyone else!A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-45409122412679285652011-01-16T15:54:00.003+01:002011-07-31T20:32:29.794+02:00Two more years of English SpeakingBy Richard Morley.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMDJXj339I/AAAAAAAABys/y3D8fKfcB_E/s1600/Cartel+ESG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMDJXj339I/AAAAAAAABys/y3D8fKfcB_E/s640/Cartel+ESG.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><br /><br />Last Friday a lovely señorita tried to teach me how to dance salsa. Have you ever heard the saying, “Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig”? Trying to teach me, with legs like sticks, as the Spanish say, to dance is very much like that. Except I wasn't annoyed, just frustrated as I have never been able to dance – as my embarrassed children will testify.<br /><br /><br />Actually, the evening wasn't primarily about dance. It was about speaking English. <br /><br />Two years ago I wrote about the <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/01/year-of-speaking-englishly.html">Madrid English Speaking Group</a>. That's not a snappy title, but what you see is what you get. An evening of English Speaking where those with a will to maintain or improve their English skills can come and practise. Oh, and drink a lot of beer in the process. Speaking is such thirsty work!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMEeGjn8bI/AAAAAAAAByw/9_4WHnocdcM/s1600/CIMG1327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMEeGjn8bI/AAAAAAAAByw/9_4WHnocdcM/s400/CIMG1327.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />That article celebrated our first anniversary. Last week, after another one hundred meetings, we reached our third birthday and we seem to be as popular as ever. Nearly fifty people crammed onto the mezzanine floor of the Restaurante Salmantino and for ninety minutes discussed, debated, presented and listened to my terrible jokes.<br /><br />My jokes don't get any better, which might be why the inmates are taking over the asylum. <br /><br />For a long time I was frustrated by the lack of confidence in their speaking skills of our Spanish members. They came every week, collaborated, orated and related many a tale in various levels of English, but they happily allowed only the native English speakers to lead the evenings. It was amazing what we had them do: Solve puzzles, answer riddles and quizzes, tell short stories, play grammatical games of my own devious design and converse non-stop for the allotted hour and a half of the meeting and then, with no prompting from me, continue to natter away in English until the bar owners kicked us out. But when I suggested that one of them could actually run the meeting and come up with devious schemes of their own, they would all shake their head a tell me, very fluently, that their English wasn't good enough.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMEzB-Z4XI/AAAAAAAABy0/zpwWPLl6k7Q/s1600/CIMG1326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMEzB-Z4XI/AAAAAAAABy0/zpwWPLl6k7Q/s400/CIMG1326.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />But I thought that if they wouldn't run an entire evening, perhaps I could persuade someone to take over for a part. This succeeded and if anything demonstrates that the Spanish can sometime be a little sadistic, this was a wonderful example. She led us in an exercise on Phrasal Verbs! The Spanish hate phrasal verbs, considering them a particularly torturous part of the English language. And here was one of their own subjecting them to an English Inquisition!<br /><br />Actually this practise in grammar is very unusual. We have found out that no one wants a lesson on Friday evenings. We sincerely want people to have fun while using their English. I think we succeed as it’s the sound of laughter that predominates.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMFH-lUHUI/AAAAAAAABy4/OU04W8DK4Co/s1600/CIMG1319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMFH-lUHUI/AAAAAAAABy4/OU04W8DK4Co/s400/CIMG1319.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Perhaps it was a desire for revenge, but this opened the way for others to follow. Now, as well as having had evenings totally led by Spaniards, we have also had a Frenchman, a Dane and a Bulgarian. We believe in equal opportunities.<br /><br />And last Friday it was a lovely Spanish lady and a Danish gentleman who not only instructed us, in English of course, how to dance salsa, but also gave us the history of the dance. As a discussion we broke into groups and had to come up with our best and worst dance experiences and then representatives of each had to relate these to the entire audience.<br /><br />For many people, making a speech or presentation in their own language to a large audience can be daunting. Last Friday I watched as a dozen Spaniards did just this in English. <br /><br />A year ago this would have amazed me, but now it is a regular occurrence. It takes a lot of courage to get up in front of so many people and throw caution to the wind and speak. Remember, there are several very fluent, native English speakers present. Our wonderful Spaniards know they will make mistakes, but they still do it.<br /><br />One volunteer leader told me before the meeting that he was so nervous he had hardly slept during the previous two nights and that his knees were literally knocking. Afterwards he was so, deservedly, proud of himself he offered to do it again. That's confidence!<br /><br />A great benefit of this is that now us guiris learn a lot about Spain and it culture from our Spanish leaders. Apart from learning to dance, we have heard stories of experiences on the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella, a walking holiday in Finland, Spanish food, music and traditions. <br /><br />I know it does wonders for their confidence in English because they tell me so. <br /><br />But the English Speaking Group of Madrid is more than just a place to practise language skills. Judging by the smiles, the laughs, the cries of welcome that ring out when attendees arrive, it is a place to make friends. International friends. We have had visits from people from all over the world. We have a reputation of being somewhere that English speaking visitors can come to meet people in Madrid without any language barrier – and our native members take full advantage of that.<br /><br />Shortly after I wrote the piece two years ago a gentleman arrived whose ability to converse in English was, to say the most, limited. To see him now you would not believe it was the same man. His easy use of English is amazing. His confidence inspiring. I would be lying if I said that it was only his attendances on Friday that have led to his now amazing confidence with the language, he has worked very hard at achieving the skills he now has. But I like to think that we had a hand in what he has achieved. <br /><br />And he is not the only one.<br /><br />Since then the membership has evolved. We have lost some and gained more. Some come every week and other less regularly. Our ages range from 21 to really quite ancient. We are not a club, there is no charge, except for the beers you consume. I like to think the Madrid English Speaking Group just provides a happy place that those who wish to improve can come without fear of feeling silly, without worrying that others will disparage their use of English. In fact, like the man in the last paragraph, I am happy to see those with a low level, but with a desire to improve, come along and try their best. And I get a real kick out of watching them improve. (And if you think your language skills are poor, you should hear my Spanish!)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMFtDkpxvI/AAAAAAAABy8/b7Q5UdNu1L0/s1600/CIMG1318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMFtDkpxvI/AAAAAAAABy8/b7Q5UdNu1L0/s400/CIMG1318.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />And I would like to add that several ladies have commented they feel safe coming to our group, which is not always the case when attending venues where strangers meet. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMF9IE6GpI/AAAAAAAABzA/vF3BDnqNAos/s1600/CIMG1315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TTMF9IE6GpI/AAAAAAAABzA/vF3BDnqNAos/s400/CIMG1315.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>The Bar Salmantino has changed owners and name. It is now called the "Rincón Santa Cruz"</b></span><br /><strong><br /></strong><br /><strong>Who - The Madrid English Speaking Group.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Where – Rincón &nbsp;Santa Cruz, Calle Santa Cruz de Marcenado, 13.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>(Nearest Metro – San Bernardo, Lines 2 &amp; 4.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>When – Every Friday from 20:00 until they kick us out.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Contact – richf_morley@yahoo.co.uk or mikemonroy@hotmail.com </strong></div><strong><br /></strong>We also have a virtual presence on line. Join our group on Facebook or come along to the forum. For reasons best known to the creator of both they go under the name of “<strong>La Tienda de las Lanas</strong>”, which means “The Wool Shop” as he claims it is a place where people go to talk. You can find the forum <a href="http://www.latiendadelaslanas.com/forum/">here&nbsp;</a>.<br /><br />There's an advertisement on the right showing where we are. If you want to improve your English, now you know where to come. If you only speak English and want a friendly evening in Madrid, then you will be very welcome.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">﻿</div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-52040541393218073042011-01-03T18:09:00.000+01:002011-01-03T18:09:15.653+01:002010 revisited<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i>By Richard Morley.</i></b></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My camera is my notebook. When something interests, amuses or annoys me, then I ususally have my camera to capture it for all time. I am not a good photographer - more of a record taker. I have used many photographs on the blog during 2010, but some, either because they were surplus to requirements, or just didn't reall fit anywhere as part of a post, were put to one side. But waste not - want not. These pictures had a meaning for me at the time of taking them and serve to jog my ancient memory. Here are some of those memories from last year:</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">During one of my lessons an important point was raised for discussion: The correct way to pour a beer. Spaniards seem to like a lot of head, which us guiris view with dismay as we see the glass only half full. So, when stopping off at a café en route to Andalucia, I couldn't resist taking the picture below. Sometimes I feel like showing it to the many bar-tenders that don't follow the rules and serve me a glass of bubbles instead of beer.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHn7SUy6wI/AAAAAAAABxo/RXlEVHCOEYw/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_How+to+pour+a+beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHn7SUy6wI/AAAAAAAABxo/RXlEVHCOEYw/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_How+to+pour+a+beer.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />There are parts of Madrid that are still a work in progress. Three times a week I teach in a built-up suburb to the east of the city, but that still has building space available. Left to themselves they have become tiny oases of grass and wild flowers. Each time I walked past this miniscule meadow I captured the growth. Below you can see it in late spring.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHr52e9LVI/AAAAAAAABxs/wD_K4_ws4PM/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Wild+Flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHr52e9LVI/AAAAAAAABxs/wD_K4_ws4PM/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Wild+Flowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The same barrio, but a few blocks distant, and I came across one of my favourite subject - graffiti. It wasn't the artistic quality that made me laugh, but the way the "artist" extended the figure out on to the pavement.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHtD57H51I/AAAAAAAABxw/1UZEXIqNPPo/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Flatfeet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHtD57H51I/AAAAAAAABxw/1UZEXIqNPPo/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Flatfeet.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was difficult to avoid stepping on his toes!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Spanish word for "cowboy" is <i>vaquero</i>. In the UK a cowboy is not a horse-backed cattle drover, but is a description of a tradesman who does a poor, cheap &nbsp;job, &nbsp;rarely finished on time, and then disappears, never to be found again. Not someone you would want to employ in your home, particularly with something as potentially dangerous as electricity. So I was tickled to see this sign on an electrician's van.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHu7k2qgdI/AAAAAAAABx0/hFHLuKYBNxo/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Cowboy+Electrician.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHu7k2qgdI/AAAAAAAABx0/hFHLuKYBNxo/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Cowboy+Electrician.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is only the sign that amused me. I am sure he is an&nbsp;excellent electrician.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another that I couldn't resist snapping, if only for the lack of logic in the "construction" of something "natural", was this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHvsBpU4CI/AAAAAAAABx4/vHvZzYCrnBY/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Natural+Construction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHvsBpU4CI/AAAAAAAABx4/vHvZzYCrnBY/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Natural+Construction.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Strange&nbsp;juxtapositions also caught my eye. Why, for instance,&nbsp;do our&nbsp;fire-fighters&nbsp;get their own exclusive ashtray?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHwcuL5o9I/AAAAAAAABx8/x776w0Wv2H8/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Exclusively+for+bomberos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHwcuL5o9I/AAAAAAAABx8/x776w0Wv2H8/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Exclusively+for+bomberos.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All of us guiris are trying our best to learn the language. It's always a problem to know exactly the right thing to say when, for instance, eating out. So, a huge vote of thanks to the VIPs chain of restaurants for this useful list of phrases.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHxkqy3e-I/AAAAAAAAByA/lbluv_Cm9RU/s1600/Madrid_Best+Pics_VIPs+Curso+de+idiomas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSHxkqy3e-I/AAAAAAAAByA/lbluv_Cm9RU/s400/Madrid_Best+Pics_VIPs+Curso+de+idiomas.JPG" width="277" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A dear friend called me one evening. "I've won some concert tickets in a raffle", she told me. "Would you like to come?" What sort of concert? I asked. "I don't know, but it's at the Auditorio Naciónal, so it's going to be classical". Well, I had always wanted to see inside this place, but the cost of tickets is prohibitive. (The tickets my friend had won had a face value of €134.13 iva incluido!) So I said I would love to. "When is the concert?" I asked and the reply was, "In an hour!" Luckily The Auditorio Naciónal is about five metro stops from where I live so, after a quick change of clothes, I made it in time. I met my friend and we checked the tickets, which gave no indication of what we were going to hear. This was solved when we entered and were given a couple of glossy programmes that informed us we were going to hear Bruckner's Third Symphony played by the Staatskapelle orchestra of Berlin conducted by Daniel Barenboim. Our seats were so close to the front I could have yanked on the tails of the great man's frock coat. Quite a good prize, I think. Before the concert began I took this picture of the inside of the auditorium and its massive organ.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH3ECUEp8I/AAAAAAAAByE/pZrgFnKEoGI/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_National+Auditorio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH3ECUEp8I/AAAAAAAAByE/pZrgFnKEoGI/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_National+Auditorio.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As spring turned into summer Madrid became the city we all love. The trees burst into leaf which cast shade from the sweat inducing sun. Even here, in the Paseo de la Castellana, it was possible to escape those searing rays.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH4Kjn6v0I/AAAAAAAAByI/y0igizw91Kg/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Castallanas+Reservation.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH4Kjn6v0I/AAAAAAAAByI/y0igizw91Kg/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Castallanas+Reservation.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because, as this weather forecast on Sexta told us bluntly, summer was here to stay.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH4hbQn5nI/AAAAAAAAByM/dCYYiwagte0/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Weather+Forecast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH4hbQn5nI/AAAAAAAAByM/dCYYiwagte0/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Weather+Forecast.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That picture was a direct photograph from my television screen. In April 2010 they turned off the old analogue signals and I was in danger of not having a TV as the set that came in my apartment was ancient with an indoor antenna, which would be useless with the new signals. I asked my landlady if she could arrange for me to be connected with the digital antenna on the apartment block roof so that I could then buy a special box &nbsp;to convert the signals. A few days later, a hole was drilled into the wall and I had my connection. But the following day, her father knocked on my door saying, "We thought you would like this" and removed from its box a brand new digital TV. Sometimes I just cannot get over the generosity of the Spanish.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took a few more pictures off the screen this year as there was no way I could get the advantageous viewpoint of the cameras of the TV stations. Look at this helicopter's view of the crowds in the Plaza del Sol on the night Spain won the soccer World Cup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH7yiFuJFI/AAAAAAAAByQ/9oBmuEjp1H0/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_World+Cup+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH7yiFuJFI/AAAAAAAAByQ/9oBmuEjp1H0/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_World+Cup+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And from an even higher viewpoint:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH8CiV0SDI/AAAAAAAAByU/INX86j7nCKY/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_World+Cup+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH8CiV0SDI/AAAAAAAAByU/INX86j7nCKY/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_World+Cup+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The feeling in Madrid that night was electric. It was if everyone on town came to Sol to celebrate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the spring we had the festival of San Isidro, the patron saint of Madrid. It is an excuse for everyone to put on their finest clothes and walk about town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH8y80_EoI/AAAAAAAAByY/thoyPsc0v78/s1600/Madrid_Best+Pics_San+Isidro+2010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH8y80_EoI/AAAAAAAAByY/thoyPsc0v78/s400/Madrid_Best+Pics_San+Isidro+2010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although some had to stay at home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH9D9r1mVI/AAAAAAAAByc/ZEHh4whfRys/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Cat+Caught.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH9D9r1mVI/AAAAAAAAByc/ZEHh4whfRys/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Cat+Caught.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Slap bang in the centre of Madrid is a huge reservoir. Not that you would know as it is below ground and above is a modern sports centre with a golf driving range. But water does feature in the above ground part as I discovered walking between lessons one bright and sunny September morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH9zrxc6KI/AAAAAAAAByg/U9Z9JVRkGxk/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Fountains+at+Canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH9zrxc6KI/AAAAAAAAByg/U9Z9JVRkGxk/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Fountains+at+Canal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Spain does not really have any dangerous wildlife: A few wild boars and the odd wolf and bear. But when walking in the country you have to be careful not to disturb a creature that will sting, bite and cause painful swelling. This is the processional caterpillar. In the&nbsp;countryside is one thing. I did not expect to find them out for a morning's saunter in my local park.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH-tLc4b4I/AAAAAAAAByk/z5jIdRlI-34/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Precessional+Caterpillars+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSH-tLc4b4I/AAAAAAAAByk/z5jIdRlI-34/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Precessional+Caterpillars+2.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">&nbsp;No prizes for guessing why they are called "processional".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And finally - a load of balls. During the second weekend of September, for one night only, Madrid hosts hundreds of events cultural or silly. On the Saturday afternoon I wandered though the Plaza Dos de Mayo and found one of the silly, but fun, ones. My photograph shows only the early stages, but by nightfall the entire plaza was full of beach balls to wade though, play with, dive into. I went to a concert of the National Jazz Orchestra, but I am told by those who visited the plaza (where the best pizzas in Madrid can be eaten) a wonderful time was had by children and grown-ups alike.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSIAWwUUXwI/AAAAAAAAByo/mcigD3YQPFM/s1600/Madrid_Best+pics_Balls+in+Plaza+Dos+de+Mayo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TSIAWwUUXwI/AAAAAAAAByo/mcigD3YQPFM/s400/Madrid_Best+pics_Balls+in+Plaza+Dos+de+Mayo.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Madrid can be silly or serious, highbrow or low, but never dull. Have I told you, I love it here!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-89736322674261858212011-01-01T14:32:00.001+01:002011-01-01T14:34:24.739+01:00A Happy New Year - with cost constraints.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><em>By Richard Morley.</em></strong><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8sdKfTuZI/AAAAAAAABxk/LOAGeBkrI5I/s1600/Madrid_New+Year+in+Sol+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8sdKfTuZI/AAAAAAAABxk/LOAGeBkrI5I/s320/Madrid_New+Year+in+Sol+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Two years ago I celebrated the arrival of 2009 in Madrid’s Plaza del Sol. It was crowded, I was jostled, and I stood in one place for four hours. New year came, the bells of the clock on the casa de correos chimed twelve and we ate our grapes. There were fireworks, music and a laser show. It was great fun and a wonderful display of city pride, but it was now on my “Been there, seen it, done it – bought the tee-shirt” list and said I would never go again.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div>So what the heck was I doing there last night?<br /><br />I have a friend who a few months ago moved to Spain for work. She is Scottish and therefore loves her New Year celebrations. Her Spanish friends and colleagues told her that most definitely she had to celebrate New Year in Sol. Enjoy the atmosphere, eat the grapes, drink, sing and be merry. It is a Great Spanish tradition.<br /><br />And then all of her friends found something else to do!<br /><br />So, instead of there being a crowd of us, it was just us two. We met early, planning to eat before joining the crowds in the centre. Her Scottish compatriot put it well when Robbie Burns wrote about “The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley”, because where we had planned to eat had closed its doors for the night. Nearby was a VIPs restaurant, which informed is they were not cooking that evening. (So why the heck were they open?) They did however provide a pancake postre and a couple of beers, which saw us through.<br /><br />My Scottish friend was amazed that catering establishments would so willingly give up the chance make money from the tens of thousands who attended last night’s celebrations. In Edinburgh, she told me, when the masses gathered in Princes Street to welcome in the new year, the restaurateurs and pub landlords would not waste such an opportunity to fill their cash registers. <br /><br />Walking along the Calle Mayor last night we passed bar after bar whose doors were shut and in darkness. Even McDonalds was closed. <br /><br />But there was drink aplenty in Sol – so long as you had brought it with you. Early arrivals came with a liquid picnic and sat on the cold slabs of the plaza. Some near us, had bought twin packs of Coke and Red wine taped together to create the instant calimochó and of course, there was Cava, the Spanish champagne, everywhere.<br /><br />After our meagre dinner, my friend and I found our spot in the plaza and began the long wait for midnight. Our legs weakening, we followed the example of the picnickers and reclined on the cold, stone slabs of the plaza while we waited until the thickening throng started standing on us. One picnic group generously passed us a can of Cruzcampo to share.<br /><br />The television companies, who had set up al fresco studios on the balconies and rooftops opposite the clock would incite the crowd to cheer and wave as they sought to add colour to their broadcasts. Those wearing garish wigs of bright colours out-numbered those who didn’t. I noticed a new line in headdress this year with the inclusion of Venetian masks, richly decorated, worn by the ladies. Men tended to stick to orange afros. A guy dressed as the pope staged a one man protest against the catholic church’s opposition to condom use, another group sailed a huge banner in support of the right of divorced fathers. An annoying guy banged a drum non-stop.<br /><br />By eleven the crowd had grown to jostling proportion. We had to almost fight, at least be really stubborn, to maintain our position on the two stone slabs where we had staked our claim. But it was a good natured crowd with only a couple of *¨/&amp;$Ys who rudely shouldered others out of their way without a perdone. There was singing, restricted dancing, and much taking of photographs. You can see my blurred offerings on this page. (I really must get a better camera!)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8sFAYH6eI/AAAAAAAABxg/eGXfyTTAaEA/s1600/Madrid_New+Year+in+Sol+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8sFAYH6eI/AAAAAAAABxg/eGXfyTTAaEA/s400/Madrid_New+Year+in+Sol+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />A minute before midnight and the already deafening screams of the crowd rose to painful. People prepared their little bags of twelve grapes, ready to consume one for each chime of midnight. It was a slow minute, but then the minute hand clunked up to vertical and the preliminary peal from the bells began, catching out those who thought this was the actual midnight chime. A few first grapes were consumed before the twelve strident bongs rang out across the plaza.<br /><br />A grape for each chime. Manage this small feat will bring you luck for the year ahead. The noise fell to a murmur until the last grape was swallowed. Then the crowd broke into song, shaken cava fountained, unconsumed grapes were thrown. There were kisses and hugs, back slapping and wishes of Feliz Año on all sides. And then ……<br /><br />Nothing!<br /><br />No fireworks – no laser projections – no music. Around us people watched the sky expectantly. It remained dark. Someone in the crowd let off a small rocket and there were a couple of thunder flashes. But no official celebration. There was a definite feeling of anti-climax. Within minutes the crowd began drifting away. Some glancing back to see if something would happen. But no.<br /><br />My friend and I joined the exodus and wondered off in the direction of Plaza Santa Anna in the hope of an open bar. No luck, they were all closed. What sort of celebration was this? Eventually we bought some beer from a Chinese shop and sat in a plaza near her hostal drinking and chatting. Passing strangers wished us “Feliz Año”, one man stopped and kissed my friend – and then insisted on kissing me! <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8rXNJntjI/AAAAAAAABxc/il0jpDuUoj8/s1600/Madrid_Plaza+Santa+Anna+at+night..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TR8rXNJntjI/AAAAAAAABxc/il0jpDuUoj8/s400/Madrid_Plaza+Santa+Anna+at+night..JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">A dead Plaza Santa Anna. No celebration here!</span></em></strong></div><br />I would be lying if I told you I had not enjoyed the evening. I had a good time and in great company. The generosity and joy of the people around us was infectious. But there was something missing this year. It must be “La Crisis”. It would surely be wrong for the ayuntamiento to spend Money on public entertainment when so many are without jobs or have had their salaries reduced.<br /><br />So I am curious to see to what extent the parade of the three kings will be reduced next week. Last years cabalgata was a fantastic show which must have cost a fortune to stage. It is a night of colour, noise and music. It’s the night when the three kings come to bring the presents for Spanish children. I hope they come in style.<br /><br />After leaving my friend I attempted to get a taxi home; A necessity when, after attracting tens of thousands into the city centre for a midnight celebration they still insist on shutting down the metro at one-thirty! I had no luck and walked back though the town to catch a night bus from Cibeles. I did pass open bars, but with others closed those that were serving were packed beyond limit. It seems strange that in a time of financial uncertainty business owners would deliberately give up the chance of profiteering from the thirsty.<br /><br />Spain, still, is different!<br /><br /><em>This blog is on the cusp of being two years old. Last month it achieved a record number of hits from every time zone around the world. For that, let me say a huge thank you to all of you for reading what I write and, sometimes, writing such encouraging comments in return. I apologise to those who were caught out by my annual Diá de los Inocentes mischief. We will continue to alternately roast or be soaked in the Plaza Mayor for a long time to come, and there will be no bio-dome in the Retiro.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />And of course, allow me to wish all of you a very happy and prosperous New Year.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-76726306673700230142010-12-28T01:48:00.001+01:002010-12-28T01:51:11.085+01:00A Roof Over Your HeadBy Richard Morley<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkw4q31CBI/AAAAAAAABxI/0-yq7iZeMxk/s1600/paris_33e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkw4q31CBI/AAAAAAAABxI/0-yq7iZeMxk/s320/paris_33e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It was bitterly cold. I didn’t want to remove my gloves to reach the cash in my pocket to pay for the caganer I had just bought for a friend’s <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-very-small-town-of-bethlehem.html">Belen</a>, the Spanish word for nativity scene. I love these little characters. They seem so irreverent during this Christmas time, yet they are funny. I was at the Christmas market in the Plaza Mayor. Darkness had fallen and the circles of illuminations swaying gently in the chill breeze above my head did nothing to relieve the cold.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkxqytK_OI/AAAAAAAABxQ/T_v3ADBFvwU/s1600/caganer-obama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkxqytK_OI/AAAAAAAABxQ/T_v3ADBFvwU/s200/caganer-obama.jpg" width="200" /></a><br /><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><img border="0" height="158" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkxfvSv5JI/AAAAAAAABxM/zEbujJgTCKs/s200/JZP+caganer.jpg" width="200" /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The Caganeres often are used to poke fun at political figures or celebrities.</span></em></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Summer visitors to Spain can hardly believe just how cold it can get in Madrid in winter. As I write this, the day after Christmas, it’s ten in the morning and there is still frost on the roof of the supermarket across from my apartment block. While I was out and about taking photographs of the Christmas lights for the previous post, the metal body of my camera was so cold I could barely hold it steady, and the ice-covered pavements first thing in the morning last week were a danger to life and limb.</div><br />When it comes to weather, Madrid, so centrally placed in the Iberian peninsular, is a city of extremes. So cold in winter and yet, so swelteringly hot in the summer months. I first arrived here one balmy May evening and fell in love with the city and assumed, so far south of a cool English spring, that this was normal in Madrid. My next visit, three months later in August soon dispelled that. The city was oven hot and sensible people took refuge in air-conditioned shops and museums.<br /><br />And likewise, as soon as my business at the Christmas market was concluded, I escaped the bitter chill to a place of heated air and hot tapas. Albóndigas and Croquetas, steaming hot, was definitely something to be devoutly consumed.<br /><br />It’s comforting to know that, at least as the plaza mayor is concerned, these extremes of temperature will soon be a thing of the past. Too cold in winter, too hot in summer, this jewel in the Madrid tourist crown will soon be a place of equitable climate all year round.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkywyzdvzI/AAAAAAAABxU/cDTyyjrTooI/s1600/Kogod-Courtyard_1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkywyzdvzI/AAAAAAAABxU/cDTyyjrTooI/s320/Kogod-Courtyard_1952.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The Kagod Centre in Washington - designed by Foster and Associates.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Taking inspiration from more northerly countries, which have their own extremes of climate to deal with, the ayuntamiento of Madrid have decided to enclose the plaza under a roof of glass. The construction was put out to tender and the design of a Japanese firm of architects, Yono Creo and associates, has been chosen to do the work. Apparently they has stiff competition from an American company, Darel-Mentisa, who won the contract for the new bio-domes which will be erected at the south end of the Retiro park and which will incorporate the rose garden and provide a new home for the tropical garden currently housed at Atocha railway Station. The Retiro’s army of roller-bladers and skateboarders are said to be not happy at the prospect of losing their playground. The tropical garden at Atocha will become a business centre.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkzclNWpbI/AAAAAAAABxY/WHPyIxIew2k/s1600/biodome_interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TRkzclNWpbI/AAAAAAAABxY/WHPyIxIew2k/s320/biodome_interior.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">An example of how the southern half of the Retiro will look enclosed in the biodome.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">This will not be the first time an open area has been covered with a glass roof. Just a block away in Sol the Casa de Correos, now the home of the Comunidad de Madrid, had its central courtyard covered long ago. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Plaza Mayor however, covers a much larger area. The specifications for the new roof stipulated that there would be no central supports or pillars. One design proposed a light plastic roof supported by air pressure alone. This was considered unsuitable as it would have necessitated double-door vestibules at every entrance to the plaza to maintain the higher air pressure. The winning design was successful for two reasons. It incorporates a cantilever construction strong enough to support real glass. The glass chosen however, is far from ordinary. Reactive to sunlight like photo-chromatic sunglasses, the full glare – and therefore heat – of the midday sun will be mitigated. Every second pane will be a transparent solar panel generating electricity to power a climate management system, which will allow the plaza to maintain a comfortable environment at any time of year.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As someone who rarely goes to the Plaza Mayor, considering it a place for poor and expensive food, I think will make a great difference to this historic heart of the city. Just next door, the Mercado San Miguel has been converted from a run down food market into a sophisticated and up market food hall and the chosen meeting place of the Madrid elite. If the Plaza goes the same way it might begin to challenge the restaurants of La Latina, Chueca or Serrano.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A spokesperson for the ayuntamiento, Mentira de las Día de los Inocentes, has suggested that if the Plaza Mayor Project is a success, a similar roof will be provided for the bullring at Ventras, allowing corridas to continue all year round.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What do you think?</div><div style="text-align: left;">.</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-78501183498344497602010-12-19T17:45:00.000+01:002010-12-19T17:45:46.290+01:00Xmas in the City<em>By Richard Morley.</em><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4x_c5sqXI/AAAAAAAABwk/vk-SThWIpP0/s1600/Madrid_Winter+Graffiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4x_c5sqXI/AAAAAAAABwk/vk-SThWIpP0/s400/Madrid_Winter+Graffiti.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Madrid Graffiti. A winter scene painted on a wall near Arturio Soria.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Somewhere back in the archives of this blog, down in the comments section, someone once wrote a happily complimentary comment but finished with a suggestion that “You must certainly have a lot of free time on your hands”. I was cut to the quick. The couple of thousand words that he or she were commenting on had, as seems to customary for what I write, taken weeks of research, visits, photo taking and then the plain hard graft of actually sitting down and collecting my thoughts and research into a coherent whole.<br /><br /><br />This year, being the centenary of Madrid's (now slightly dowdy!) Centre Piece, the Gran Via, the sheer complexity of its history forced me into writing a trilogy. The finished result, liked by many, I am pleased to recount, reflected only the more striking, more interesting (from my point of view – this is my blog, after all) of all the stuff I had to sort through. Such is the complexity of the history of any great city. It was, in fact the culmination of seven months (on and off – this is not a full time occupation) of research on line, in my local library, asking people who had lived through that history and so on. <br /><br />The history of the Madrid's water supply took almost as long. The Canal Isabel II, the name of the company that supplies Madrid with its water, is buried under a heap of its own self-congratulatory list of achievements. It will tell you how wonderful it is now, but how it began, using convict labour, poor geological surveys, and the usual Madrid political grumblings about its cost and who should take the credit, took ages to sift through. But I found the time. Nice comments made it all worthwhile.<br /><br />Were that true now! As someone once said, “Time is like a handful of sand – the tighter you grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers”. Can it really be that I haven't posted here for nearly a month? The trouble is that I have been plagued by that curse of life – work. Couple the offers of work with an inability to say “no” and suddenly “having time on my hands” is no longer an option.<br /><br />So, apologies to those who have clicked on here expecting to find something new each week. But there are articles in the pipeline, so all is not lost.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4ynzki8vI/AAAAAAAABwo/S14LUsOYl20/s1600/Madrid_Serrano+Carousel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4ynzki8vI/AAAAAAAABwo/S14LUsOYl20/s400/Madrid_Serrano+Carousel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />However, here I am in that most majestic of cities, Madrid, at that most wonderful of times, Christmas, and Christmas in Madrid is always a huge pleasure. For a start, the roasted chestnut sellers are out in force. On your behalf I have been making my annual survey of many of the purveyors of this fine food. I have been disappointed in the Calle Goya, near to El Corte Inglés, where the dozen I bought were undercooked and three were bad, and astonished at the Puerto de Toledo where the lady there sold then in multiples of seven – so I was forced to buy fourteen. The choices were seven, fourteen, or thirty-five. Perhaps the latter is the “party pack”. But they were all good. Last year's winner, the man at the Plaza España was way up there in the rankings but a guy under the bridge at Nuevos Ministerios takes this year's award as the best chestnuts I have ever tasted. Perfectly roasted, he chose my solicited dozen with great care, segregating the nearly cooked from the over cooked until he filled the bag with twelve nuggets of sheer heaven. I was about to board the metro, which would have necessitated eating them in a rush, but I chose, after the first couple, to walk to the next station, savouring them as I walked.<br /><br />I do despair for the poor street cleaners who have to follow in my discarded shell footsteps.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4yy9Bd7rI/AAAAAAAABws/DQDkIbAadqU/s1600/Madrid_ECI_Goya+at+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4yy9Bd7rI/AAAAAAAABws/DQDkIbAadqU/s400/Madrid_ECI_Goya+at+Christmas.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">El Corte Inglés department store at Goya. The display is a sound and audio delight.</span></em></strong></div><br />Due to “La Crisis” the illuminated decorations are, in many cases, the same as last year and there have not been nearly as many of those silly “Christmas Cones”, Madrid's mechanical solution to saving the fir-wood forests, as last year, although the monstrosity in Sol is there again. The thing about these metal surrogates is that they may look quite pretty all lit up at night, but their black ugliness during the hours of day light is no substitute for a real tree.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4zxI_7ivI/AAAAAAAABww/QYxCGut4cmQ/s1600/Madrid_Calle+Narvaez+from+Goya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ4zxI_7ivI/AAAAAAAABww/QYxCGut4cmQ/s400/Madrid_Calle+Narvaez+from+Goya.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Golden Rings (ting-a-ling) along the Calle Naráez</div><br />And while the shops might be exhorting us to enter and buy, and with El Corte Inglés enticing us to “make a present of Christmas”, the shops have not been looking particularly Christmassy. There seems to be a dearth of Belens this year and although ECL have decorated the outsides of their stores, inside it is business as usual. The most successful shops seem to be those selling what I call “fire sale” goods. “Everything Ten Euros” proclaimed a shop in the Calle Alberto Aguillera this morning. I walk past these premises every week and each time it seems to be selling a different line of goods at knock down prices. Today, the last Saturday before Christmas, it was toys and games. Piled high and sold cheap. Inside was standing room only and a queue of expectant buyers stretched fifty metres along the pavement outside. A sign if the times.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ41Mt7GA-I/AAAAAAAABw0/vV57SEh4KiU/s1600/Madrid_Calle+Goya+with+church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ41Mt7GA-I/AAAAAAAABw0/vV57SEh4KiU/s400/Madrid_Calle+Goya+with+church.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Calle Goya all lit up.</span></em></strong></div><br />At the other end of the financial scale, the finally finished Calle de Serrano, with its serried ranks of “posh” shops, seems to be doing an equally brisk trade. Serrano finally got rid of the workmen and machinery a few short weeks ago and, carpeted in pink, allowed its patrons to shop without fear of tripping over exposed pipe work or falling into deep trenches. In its first refurbished Christmas it has pulled out all the shopper attracting stops and illuminated itself like a fairy wonderland.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ41hfiSTFI/AAAAAAAABw4/Vq6H2oHsbWk/s1600/Madrid_Serrano+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ41hfiSTFI/AAAAAAAABw4/Vq6H2oHsbWk/s400/Madrid_Serrano+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Serrano.</span></em></strong></div><br />There is no doubt that “La Crisis” is biting into Christmas expenditure. One man, interviewed in the street on Madrid Direct, our local news channel, said that due to his unemployment “there would be no Christmas this year”, and I am sure that many will have to settle for less than before.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ42J0UX-iI/AAAAAAAABxA/2F9eT7YPd-s/s1600/Madrid_Salamanca+Shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ42J0UX-iI/AAAAAAAABxA/2F9eT7YPd-s/s400/Madrid_Salamanca+Shopping.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />That said, the shops have been packed full of those who do have the disposable income to celebrate. Sol and its radiating streets have been jammed with package clutching shoppers since the start of December. I wonder what my friends have bought me!<br /><br />If only they could buy me time. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ410gsbxsI/AAAAAAAABw8/2CMDpDM7ZHk/s1600/Madrid_Vergara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TQ410gsbxsI/AAAAAAAABw8/2CMDpDM7ZHk/s400/Madrid_Vergara.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Calle Principe de Vergara.</span></em></strong></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-71450676729903919062010-11-28T13:34:00.001+01:002010-11-28T13:41:34.457+01:00The Things That People Do.<em>By Richard Morley.</em><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TPJKufi-avI/AAAAAAAABwc/JHWSrFpH1uM/s1600/Madrid_Signto+Tanatorio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TPJKufi-avI/AAAAAAAABwc/JHWSrFpH1uM/s400/Madrid_Signto+Tanatorio.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />I think it is time to book my room at the tanatorio across the road. The Tanatorio, for those of you who don’t know, is where they take the dead people en route to the grave. A grey, forbidding place, it is where relatives and friends to come and pay their last respects. When I eventually go there I want all my friends to come and shout at me, poke me, sing to me and make sure I am really dead before they do with me whatever they will. It’s just a precaution.<br /><br />My local Tanatorio is about three hundred metres away from my apartment as the spirit flies and as I often walk past it I can say that I have already made my final journey many times.<br /><br />But why do I have these thoughts about my own mortality? Something terrible happened today. A young man, sporting a New York Yankees jacket, Silver and blue Nike Trainers and an expert juggler’s set of rings in his left earlobe, offered me his seat on the bus.<br /><br />Ok, my hair is grey and the skin around the eyes is showing signs of age, but inside I haven’t aged a bit since my twenty-first birthday, but by outward appearances obviously this young man thought I am getting on a bit.<br /><br />As the bus emptied and filled as we went from stop to stop the young man would find a seat, but immediately offer it to some ancient who shuffled on board at the next stop. A well brought up, polite young man, who seemed to have a mission in life as a seat warmer for wrinklies.<br /><br />I was on my way to give a lesson in Castellana. I was early and so found an empty banco, or bench, to while away the minutes with a cigarette and a quick review of the lesson of prepositions I was about to give. A few metres away stood a water fountain, a thing of cold, dull, cast iron with a sprung-loaded tap. A very dishevelled – unshaved, raggedly dressed – middle-aged man approached the fountain and removing a reclaimed yoghurt pot from his stained pocket, proceeded to rinse it out; throwing the water in all directions. He then took a drink and, thirst assuaged, stumbled a few metres to a tree and urinated, totally oblivious to my presence and that of passing office girls on their way to lunch.<br /><br />I have a feeling that British office girls would have reacted with cat-calls and loud comments. Their Spanish counterparts walked past as if nothing unusual was happening.<br /><br />A couple of hundred metres north, where Castellana intersects with Ayala an old man, his head swathed in a threadbare woollen scarf, a grubby raincoat flapping about his knees and a crutch, waited for the traffic to halt for a red light. He would then stumble his way through the stopped cars, leaning heavily on the crutch, while banging on windows and thrusting a plastic cup in the faces of drivers, begging for money. He would, perhaps, approach seven or eight cars before the lights began to change. As the engines started to roar he would make his way to the kerb and walk, quite unaided by the crutch, back up to the lights and await his next queue of victims. <br /><br />The things people do sometimes astounds me. And travelling around Madrid from lesson to lesson, I see a lot of people.<br /><br />Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. Like the time a gang of leather-jacketed, chain jangling youths swaggered towards me taking up every centimetre of the width of the pavement as if they owned it. But just before they reached me, two of them stepped down into the gutter allowing me to pass while begging my “perdón, señor”. My landlady’s teenage son, who shouts and slams doors while at home, approached me in the local supermarket recently and insisted on shaking my hand before politely asking for a loan of my house keys.<br /><br />Sometimes I am surprised by rudeness, like the old ladies who consider, unlike the youths above, that the pavement does belong to them and that four women walking abreast should not give way to oncoming pedestrians. And don’t get me started on their use of umbrellas or <a href="http://aviewofmadrid.blogspot.com/2009/03/chariots-of-ire.html">shopping trolleys</a>.<br /><br />And sometimes I am just perplexed. I watched a young woman the other Saturday morning try four different seats in an uncrowded bus until she was happy. I was reminded of the way that dogs go round and round in circles until finally flopping onto their beds to sleep, or will sniff every bush or tree before finding just the one to relieve themselves against.<br /><br />Others board the bus and take an aisle seat, leaving the inner seat, next to the window, empty. At the next parada a new passenger gets on and despite there being a plethora of other empty spaces, insist on taking that free window seat. This sets me wondering on two levels: One, why did the first passenger not slide across to avoid the business of getting up, standing aside, and retaking his or her (and usually it’s a her) original seat? And two, why did the second passenger not just take one of the available empty seats?<br /><br />And while I am on the subject of taking the bus. Why can’t those with abonos find their ticket before the bus arrives, instead of climbing on board and only then, with a queue behind them, begin to search pockets and handbags for that elusive red plastic wallet? ¡Qué fastidio!<br /><br />Or those who hesitate before stepping on to a metro escalator, as if waiting for just the right step to come along before they will use it. As my Facebook friend Sophia once asked, “What are they waiting for? A shiny one?”<br /><br />But worse are those who reach the top of the escalator, step off, and then stop, dead, while those coming up behind them have to swerve or leap around them. What are they doing? Planting a flag and claiming the lobby for Spain?<br /><br />But it’s while they are riding the metro that you will witness the unexplainable. There seems to be an unwritten rules that the end seats of a row of four will not be left unattended. Imagine, four people sit in a row. The train arrives at a station and those occupying the end seats get up to leave. Immediately those in the centre seats will slide over to take the freshly vacated, still bottom-warm, seats of the just departed.<br /><br />Ok, I’ll admit I have done it myself if, say, a couple get on and want to sit together. So I will ask the question of one of life’s little mysteries: Why do ladies leave warmer seats than gentlemen?<br /><br />Then moving upwards to the surface and Madrid’s busy, traffic tangled streets, I might ask the purpose of traffic lights as at junctions not under surveillance by CCTV. No one seems to obey them at all. Red or amber lights seem to have the sole purpose of telling the drivers there might be crossing pedestrians to weave around. They don’t seem to be there to inform the driver he has to stop and let people on legs cross the road safely. <br /><br />A few months ago I was actually hit by a car as, with the permission of the little green men, or flashing viejos verdes, I was crossing a road when this car swung round the corner and came straight at me. The driver slammed on his brakes and did manage to stop just as his front bumper came into contact with my leg. No harm done, no bruises, not even a scuff mark, but I left the driver in no doubt what I thought of his ability and, to give him his due, he signalled his apology with that praying hand sign they seem to know, and probably practise, so well.<br /><br />My friends told me I could have sued. That I should have acted terribly hurt, leaping up and down while holding a supposedly injured limb, while promising the driver that if he slipped me a hundred euros I wouldn’t call the police. Hey ho! Another lost opportunity. <br /><br />This has happened just once, but almost happened a hundred times. It might not be old age that books me that one way trip to the Tanatorio!<br /><br />But why do drivers ignore the lights? And come to that, why do pedestrians? They step out on to the road at the first twinkle of changing colours with no thought to the tons of metal hurtling towards them as their drivers attempt to cross before the lamp turns irredeemably red. Perhaps they have a suicide wish. In fact I am sure of it. I know one lady who will grab my arm and say, “Quick, let’s suicidarse” at the slimmest break in the traffic. Another, given the choice of two crossings a hundred metres apart on the busy Calle Conde de Penlaver, thought the best place to cross was almost exactly halfway between them.<br /><br />And sometimes the things that people do are just amazing. The generosity of the Madrileños is not confined to being quickest on the draw when it comes to picking up the tab. Ask directions and chances are you will be taken there, or at least to the right intersection and have a landmark pointed out to you. Admittedly their willingness to engage in conversation can be a little annoying when you are in a hurry, but you can’t fault them for friendliness. Then again, I have had many a Spanish lesson from waiters and waitresses in cafés and restaurants. I still remember the waiter in the Plaza mayor, in my early naïve days here when I thought that was a good place to eat, who taught me “postre”. <br /><br />For that matter, I am amazed at the patience they show while attempting to improve my abysmally bad Spanish, sitting for hours speaking s-l-o-w-l-y and carefully so I can understand and putting up with the ungrammatical nonsense they get in return. And that includes the assistant in the pharmacy who wouldn’t let me pay for the painkillers I needed for a bad back until I proved I could pronounce “Ibu-pro-feno”. She made me repeat it three times before relinquishing her hold on the packet.<br /><br />As I write this, although I won’t publish for a couple of days, it is Thanks-giving day in the United States. In the five and a half years I have lived in Madrid I keep finding more and more things that I should be thankful for.<br /><br />My sister once asked me how I could live in a country where I felt like a “foreigner”? The answer to that is that I don’t. And for that, to all the people who reside in this fantastic city, with all their strange – and suicidal – ways, I want to say thank you.<br /><br />And I should say it now, before I die. A thousand curses on that polite, well-bred young man. Why couldn’t he have just let me stand. The Tanatorio is not far, and should this be my Last Post, remember this, in that place, one room will be forever England.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TPJL09halDI/AAAAAAAABwg/o4XbkglDDWw/s1600/Madrid_Tanatorio+M30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TPJL09halDI/AAAAAAAABwg/o4XbkglDDWw/s400/Madrid_Tanatorio+M30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874137447740219052.post-28580560604755958522010-11-09T11:56:00.004+01:002010-11-09T12:07:34.383+01:00Life in the ColoniesBy Richard Morley.<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />At eleven o’clock, one Monday morning, I boarded a number seventy-seven bus that took me all the way to the End of the Week. And when I got off, I found myself in December.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkYF4nsZmI/AAAAAAAABuU/9eWBqkRR3bY/s1600/Route+77+itinerary.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkYF4nsZmI/AAAAAAAABuU/9eWBqkRR3bY/s320/Route+77+itinerary.JPG" width="152" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">No, I wasn’t smoking something illicit. I had been searching for a bus route that would take me to one of Madrid’s large out-of-town shopping centres and noticed on the itinerary displayed on the EMT’s (<a href="http://www.emtmadrid.es/">Empresa Municipal de Transportes de Madrid</a> ) website, that the final destination of this particular route was a place called the “Colonia Fin de Semana”, and the more detailed listing of the paradas de autobús named the final stop as the Calle de Diciembre.</div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The stop I was searching for, the nearest to the shopping mall, is actually half a kilometre away from the centre and why the public transport companies, EMT or Metro cannot provide a service that would actually take the shopper directly to a popular shopping centre is something I just can’t understand.. (The nearest Metro station is half an hour’s walk away on the opposite side of a busy motorway crossed by a high footbridge.) I was checking prices for a heavy printer I have my eye set on, but the sheer distance I would have to carry the thing to the bus stop has decided me against buying it from there. This failure to provide a good transport link to this part of Madrid is a rant for the future, but why was my eye drawn to the last stop of the route?</div><br />Scattered around Madrid’s neighbourhoods of high rise dwellings are some curious links to the past. I can look down on one from my fifth floor apartment window; A collection of some thirty, small, two storey houses set on about a hectare (roughly two acres for my non-metricised readers) served by two narrow streets. Each house has a high wall to protect the inhabitants from the eyes of the curious. Over every wall can be seen the straggling stems and branches of mature gardens. Peering through gaps one can see private patios and personalised entrances. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkYjzjTbLI/AAAAAAAABuY/4u643GOGHSw/s1600/Madrid_Carteros+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkYjzjTbLI/AAAAAAAABuY/4u643GOGHSw/s400/Madrid_Carteros+(1).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Surrounded on all sides by eight, ten and twelve storied apartment blocks these compact houses seem very much out of place. But in fact, it is the high rises that are the usurpers. This small colony of houses was here long before the developers began building in the mid fifties. And it has a name; La Colonia de los Carteros. Yes! The Colony of the Postmen (or mailmen – again for my US readers.)<br /><br />These “Colonias” are dotted all over the city. As in the case of my neighbours, some were built to provide housing for workers in one sector or another. They are not all pretty little houses. Some are more utilitarian like the Colonia San Cristabal, occupying a few streets opposite the Cuatro Torres, and was designed to provide housing for employees of the bus company. Some were built just to provide affordable housing for anyone.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkZJ1oxq4I/AAAAAAAABug/UmXr2xhKRbk/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+San+Cristabal+dwarfed+by+the+four+towers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; height: 212px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; width: 290px;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkZJ1oxq4I/AAAAAAAABug/UmXr2xhKRbk/s320/Madrid_Colonia+San+Cristabal+dwarfed+by+the+four+towers.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkY9U4O4dI/AAAAAAAABuc/rzx4YYhA1Lk/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+San+Cristabal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkY9U4O4dI/AAAAAAAABuc/rzx4YYhA1Lk/s320/Madrid_Colonia+San+Cristabal.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The Colonia de San Cristabal. Built in the first half of the 20th century, they are now dwawfed by the monsters of the 21st.</span></em></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The key word here is “affordable”. Actually that’s not quite right. In December 1921 and July 1922 two pieces of legislation were passed known as “El ley del Casas Baratas”, or the Cheap Housing Law. These laid down in Spanish law some principles that were sweeping Europe at the time, which were to provide housing for workers that had to be of good quality, sanitary and low cost. The bywords were “Simple construction with economic materials”. In the late 1800s the United Kingdom has legislated the “Labouring Houses Act” and France saw the creation of la Societé française des habitations à bon marchè.</div><br />In Spain these laws specified minimum build quality, cost, and, and this really drove the movement, gave subsidies and tax breaks to companies who provided such housing.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkaZKtDd2I/AAAAAAAABuk/XExoIaxz4Qc/s1600/Madrid_Carteros+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkaZKtDd2I/AAAAAAAABuk/XExoIaxz4Qc/s400/Madrid_Carteros+%25283%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkamB4-_pI/AAAAAAAABuo/bfpW7jtCN-4/s1600/Madrid_Carteros+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkamB4-_pI/AAAAAAAABuo/bfpW7jtCN-4/s400/Madrid_Carteros+%25285%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">﻿</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The narrow streets of the Colonia de los Carteros</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Given that low cost was the major factor, it is not surprising that these “Colonias” were built outside of the city on previously unused land. My neighbours in the Colonia de los Carteros, built in 1922, are nearly five kilometres from Madrid city centre. I have been told that prior to the 1950s my part of Madrid consisted of open fields with only scattered housing. It’s different now! The Colonia de Retiro, which was built on new land off the South East corner of the famous park is just three kilometres from Sol, yet at the time of its construction was completely isolated from the city and is now completely surrounded. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkbSjvDCMI/AAAAAAAABus/-KWpuQFJaHs/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Retiro+in+1942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkbSjvDCMI/AAAAAAAABus/-KWpuQFJaHs/s320/Madrid_Colonia+Retiro+in+1942.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkrAFzwkqI/AAAAAAAABwU/r15Y4LghEiU/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Retiro+google+earth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkrAFzwkqI/AAAAAAAABwU/r15Y4LghEiU/s320/Madrid_Colonia+Retiro+google+earth.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The Colonia de Retiro:&nbsp;Quite isolated when it was built (top), now, as shown in this&nbsp;Google Earth image (bottom), totally absorbed into the city.</span></em></strong> <br /><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">&nbsp; </span></em></strong></div><strong></strong>Seven kilometres south west of Sol you will find the old Colonia Militar Arroyo Meaques. Lying within sight of Colonia Jardin metro station on line 10, it fiercely maintains its independence from the encroaching high rise apartments. <br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfI7Z9BdI/AAAAAAAABu4/gbOLBz7GAl4/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+beynd+the+metro+carpark.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfI7Z9BdI/AAAAAAAABu4/gbOLBz7GAl4/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+beynd+the+metro+carpark.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Colonia Arroyo Meaques seen across the carpark of the nearby Colonia Jardin metro station﻿</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfhuC3fhI/AAAAAAAABu8/qbSrzRLxZI8/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(40).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfhuC3fhI/AAAAAAAABu8/qbSrzRLxZI8/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(40).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Rows of pretty cottages in Arroyo Meaques</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A stroll around the Colonia quickly shows that this was almost a self contained village. At one time the colony had its shops, its bar and it church. The old town hall reveals its village like status before the approaching Medusa like tendrils of the city. The cottages have been maintained or restored the way they were built and it really is like going back in time.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfxQl8yaI/AAAAAAAABvA/b8xFboZr_yY/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(78).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkfxQl8yaI/AAAAAAAABvA/b8xFboZr_yY/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(78).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">It would almost be a village scene if it wasn't for the high rise beyond</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgBByfvwI/AAAAAAAABvE/eOGNQ1O0o1I/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(76).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgBByfvwI/AAAAAAAABvE/eOGNQ1O0o1I/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(76).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">A fig tree escapes its confines. Away from the city's bustle, perhaps just two hundred metres away, it's like being out in the country.</span></em></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div>There is a reason behind this. The reason why these tiny enclaves continue to exist and have not been demolished in the path of profitable high rise apartment blocks is because they are protected by law. In 1997 an act was enabled that enforced on them a “listed” status, as it is called in the UK. The insides may be modernised but their exteriors must be preserved. There are by-laws which protect and extend beyond the properties to the streets outside with restrictions on parking, and what you can and cannot do. <br /><br />When you consider what the value of the land would be to a developer, these very houses that were built as “casas baratas”, have now become very valuable indeed.<br /><br />What this has done, of course, is to create enclaves of small, expensive housing. If you were lucky enough to inherit, you would be sitting on a gold mine. Otherwise, if you want to live here, and I think I could very easily, then you will have to wait for that lottery win.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgU41DBsI/AAAAAAAABvI/QSZIZ1kAFns/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(84).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgU41DBsI/AAAAAAAABvI/QSZIZ1kAFns/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(84).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />But the people who live in the Colonia Militar Arroyo Meaques are not so rich. A couple of blocks away is a disused army base and the houses are owned by the ministry of defence. The residents are ex military personnel who, amazingly, rent their homes for the grand sum of two hundred Euros a month. Originally built to house officers the houses are quite large. In recent years the colony has been refurbished at a cost of three and a half million euros. The pavements are neatly block-paved, the roads freshly asphalted and many of the one hundred and thirty three houses have been completely renovated, while still maintaining the old external appearance. There are a few houses still in the process of renovation and signs affixed to the walls of empty properties proclaim them to be “Almacén del Invifas”, which means they are the property of the “Instituto para la Vivienda de las Fuerzas Armadas”, or army property, and is a legal necessity to stop squatters.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgopo-uPI/AAAAAAAABvM/pu-U0SemcGw/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(68).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkgopo-uPI/AAAAAAAABvM/pu-U0SemcGw/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Jardin+(68).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">A cottage in the (very) early stages of renovation</span></em></strong></div>The cost of renovation, incidentally, was shared by the Ayuntamientos of Madrid and Pozuelo as the colonia lies on the boundary of the two, leading to the somewhat ridiculous matter of there being two different designs of lampposts in the streets. The military, whose personnel benefit from the renovation, paid nothing. <br /><br />However, as well as providing living accommodation for workers, some of these colonias were nothing more than holiday homes. In the same way that well-off Madrileños today have second homes on the coast or in the cool hills north of the city, the pre-motorcar age required these week-end “get-aways” to be closer to home.<br /><br />That very philosophy is, obviously, reflected in the name of the place where I began this article: La Colonia Fin de Semana. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkhv9P7u0I/AAAAAAAABvQ/9C8niF9N21Y/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(29).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkhv9P7u0I/AAAAAAAABvQ/9C8niF9N21Y/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(29).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Situated some twelve kilometres east of Madrid and a good couple of kilometres beyond the advancing tide of high rise apartments, this “Colonia” still betrays its origins as a “get away” place. It’s central plaza is wide and gardened. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkiTyMq1eI/AAAAAAAABvY/uYDUkGVT0iU/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(56).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkiTyMq1eI/AAAAAAAABvY/uYDUkGVT0iU/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(56).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">The cetral plaza in Fin deSemana</span></em></strong></div>There are open spaces used for growing vegetables and old houses with sprawling vines and crawling roses. But its artificiality is apparent. The streets are laid out on a strictly regimented grid and named, (by lazy, unimaginative planners) in order, after the months of the year. Hence my untimely arrival in “Diciembre”. Unlike the bucolic joys of the Colonia Arroyo Meaques, which strives to maintain a timeless quality, the Colonia Fin de la Semana is undergoing development.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkiCEH3x7I/AAAAAAAABvU/Dt0smCmoBjw/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(58).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkiCEH3x7I/AAAAAAAABvU/Dt0smCmoBjw/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(58).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Ancient dwellings resist the encroachment of new development.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Regimented rows of modern houses, obviously for the well to do, stand cheek by jowl with the ancient cottages. Untended wildernesses wait for the developer’s bulldozer. Much of the northern half of the Colonia is industrial, with builder’s yards and ironworks. Not as pretty as I thought a weekend retreat should be.<br /><br />I suspect I was not the only one to be disappointed. Within minutes of arriving I was approached by a back-packing Australian couple who, with not even a faltering attempt at Spanish, asked me for directions. Am I so obviously a guiri? Well no, because their surprise was palpable when I replied in English, “Sorry, I haven’t a clue”, when they were expecting a Spanish reply. I would never, in any non English speaking country, approach a stranger without some attempt at the local language. I wonder why this couple, well, the woman, thought it was ok. However. I don’t think the Colonia was the tourist sight they expected to see. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNki5D2VQZI/AAAAAAAABvg/sIoDt7dFrTs/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(34).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNki5D2VQZI/AAAAAAAABvg/sIoDt7dFrTs/s400/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana+(34).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Fin de Semana now provides housing for all of the week.</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;"><br />&nbsp;</span></em></strong>A close scrutiny at any map of Madrid will reveal many of these “Colonias”. There are, in fact, forty two designated, and protected, as “colonias históricas madrilènes”. Some don’t actually have “colonia” in the name, but they are there. And you don’t have to go far to find them. The top end of the Calle Serrano will put you right in the centre of where Madrileñillos used to spend their weekends. There are four just behind the Real Madrid stadium; El Visto, Cruz del Rayo, (built to house civil servants), La Prensa y Bellas Artes (to house writers, journalists and artists – obviously) and Iturbe IV for professionals.<br /><br />The Chamartin district boasts seventeen. Prosperidad, a lovely name, for one, was built under the 1927 law of cheap housing for labourers. The list also includes Socialista, Jardin de Rosa, Los Pinares, Las Magnolias, Los Rosales and so on. While Iturbe III was constructed by the Cooperativa Madrileña de Casas Baratas y Económicas slap bang in the middle of the Salamanca district for who knows who, but just think of the prices these properties in that area fetch now!<br /><br />I can sort of tell you, although the documentation I have found is about six years old. In Salamanca the prices for the houses in the three colonies of Carteros, Iturbe III and Fuente del Berro were around €4,800 per square metre. So, half a million each, which actually isn’t bad for that area, but the places are tiny.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkjKtuZZzI/AAAAAAAABvk/HUeL0Op0OPQ/s1600/Madrid_Old+cottage+in+Jaenar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkjKtuZZzI/AAAAAAAABvk/HUeL0Op0OPQ/s400/Madrid_Old+cottage+in+Jaenar.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Some of the properties protected by the 1997 law are not parts of colonies, but individual holdings. For this reason you will find many ancient, slightly rickety, little houses completely swamped in a sea of high rise blocks.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmF5kQI0I/AAAAAAAABvo/u0v8xBoh6JQ/s1600/Madrid_Old+Cottage+in+Tantalus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmF5kQI0I/AAAAAAAABvo/u0v8xBoh6JQ/s400/Madrid_Old+Cottage+in+Tantalus.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Some are quite charming, if not seeming a little lonely. However, a quick glimpse thought a chink in a wall, or through a half open gate, reveals well cared for properties and a view of how Madrid used to be before apartment living was the norm. Long may they last.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: blue;">Below - Experience a year in a Weekend﻿</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmpk-SwwI/AAAAAAAABvs/wkQJHhF7dy0/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Dec.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="123" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmpk-SwwI/AAAAAAAABvs/wkQJHhF7dy0/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Dec.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmzW4bBJI/AAAAAAAABvw/KvHdtkK86_A/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_October.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkmzW4bBJI/AAAAAAAABvw/KvHdtkK86_A/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_October.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknAFIlu-I/AAAAAAAABv0/cJHuAKlVPqA/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_April.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknAFIlu-I/AAAAAAAABv0/cJHuAKlVPqA/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_April.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknHfw4iLI/AAAAAAAABv4/jtUC6KZolm0/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Oct+&amp;+Aug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknHfw4iLI/AAAAAAAABv4/jtUC6KZolm0/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Oct+&amp;+Aug.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknROih12I/AAAAAAAABv8/s_NJ7lLLV-g/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Summer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknROih12I/AAAAAAAABv8/s_NJ7lLLV-g/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Summer.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkndi72yRI/AAAAAAAABwA/itjQuT9vFSw/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_May.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkndi72yRI/AAAAAAAABwA/itjQuT9vFSw/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_May.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknyxoLnLI/AAAAAAAABwE/umr6Cno3J6A/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Feb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNknyxoLnLI/AAAAAAAABwE/umr6Cno3J6A/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Feb.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkoTfG0WJI/AAAAAAAABwM/uURZUuYmF8I/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_April.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkoTfG0WJI/AAAAAAAABwM/uURZUuYmF8I/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_April.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkodhwA0GI/AAAAAAAABwQ/x_icconZw5A/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Nov.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkodhwA0GI/AAAAAAAABwQ/x_icconZw5A/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_Nov.JPG" width="139" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkoH_fkiFI/AAAAAAAABwI/zXqtuTsppwE/s1600/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_March.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q57dffqEBXs/TNkoH_fkiFI/AAAAAAAABwI/zXqtuTsppwE/s200/Madrid_Colonia+Fin+de+Semana_March.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div>A View Of Madridhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08276030592377295471noreply@blogger.com11